


half-forgotten faces and friends we used to know

by JustAFrailHuman



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Christmas, Christmas Party, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Yule, technically a Yule Party but eh what can ya do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22007146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAFrailHuman/pseuds/JustAFrailHuman
Summary: Quentin Coldwater isn’t exactly having a happy holiday this year. He’s lost his job, he can’t pay his rent, and his kids’ grandmother has made it perfectly clear her opinion of his raising the kids by himself. And every time something goes wrong in Quentin’s life, the same pretentious prick is always right there.Eliot Waugh is facing his worst nightmare- returning to his hometown of Bumfuck, Indiana (Eliot has Opinions, okay) for the first time in over a decade. He would have gladly stayed away for another decade, but needs must. And, to add insult to injury, Eliot keeps running into a cute guy, who hates him.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 3
Kudos: 63
Collections: Magicians Hallmark Holiday Extravaganza





	half-forgotten faces and friends we used to know

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for the Holiday Fic "half-forgotten faces and friends we used to know"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006090) by [Doomkitty25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doomkitty25/pseuds/Doomkitty25). 



> This is part of The Magicians Holidays Hallmark Extravaganza big bang and inspired by the movie The Christmas Secret (which is itself based on a book).
> 
> Thanks to Doomkitty25 for the amazing art! (see inspired by)
> 
> Disclaimers- Eliot has many Opinions about smalltown life, which do not represent the opinions of the author. And any medical information is probably completely inaccurate- I majored in history, I'm not a doctor.
> 
> This was an absolute beast to write! It's the first fanfic I've written in literally a decade and easily the longest fanfic I've ever written.

When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow,  
We hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago,  
And etched on vacant places  
Are half forgotten faces  
Of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know--  
When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow.  
–“Christmas Fancies,” Ella Wheeler Wilcox

It’s snowing. Light and slow. Flurries lazily floating down and melting when they reach the pavement. A person might call it beautiful. All Quentin can think is that the roads are going to be hell when the melted snow turns to ice.

He resists the urge to check the weather app on his phone again. He knows it’s not cold enough for the roads to ice over. Not yet at least. And honestly, this is good news; the flurries are barely touching the ground before they’re melting and it’s already letting up. The roads will be wet on the way to work, but not icy. But he has to check. He has to make sure.

Quentin doesn’t have a great track record with winter. Or the winter season in general.

A week after Christmas when he was 7, his parents told him they were getting a divorce and he almost got frostbite from hiding outside in his treehouse when his parents thought he had shut himself in his room.

His mother, Joanna, had died when her car skidded off an icy road when he was 14.

Arielle had died after New Year’s.

“I don’t see why you should stay in Wilsonville. There are good schools in Indianapolis and plenty of work, if you would just look for it. I can pay for the movers, storage, whatever you need.”

Quentin sighs. Claire, his wife's single mom, has been hounding them to move to Indianapolis for as long as he can remember. Neither he or Ari ever had the heart to tell her that they chose Wilsonville in part due to its fine balance of being close enough to visit Claire or in case of an emergency but too far for her to meddle.

“I really appreciate the offer, but we’re settled here.”

“It’s just too far away,” she argues. “It’s practically in the middle of nowhere! You and the kids should just move in with me. Maybe then I would get to see my grandchildren more than once or twice every other month.” It was an old argument. One that Arielle had always been better at arguing than Quentin.

“Like I said, I appreciate the offer. but the kids like Wilsonville. They have friends here. You know we moved to Indiana to be close that specialist but we couldn’t afford the specialist and Indianapolis.” They still couldn’t afford Indianapolis, but. Well. “And Wilsonville has a small hospital in case of an emergency.”

“You don’t need that specialist anymore, do you?” Her voice is bitter, angry. He’s heard her say it often enough to know that if they follow this line of conversation, they’re both bound to start crying.

He switches tracks. “And I had a job lined up here.”

A job that he’d had to quit too soon after starting. He could only take so many days off to be with Ari at the hospital or at home with the kids. He’s still not sure how he’s managed to keep his job at the grocery store for so long.

But, truthfully, Arielle hadn’t wanted to live too close to her mother: Claire hadn’t exactly kept her disapproval of Arielle’s relationship with Quentin hidden. If they hadn’t given her grandchildren, she probably would have very little to do with their lives. But Ari and Quentin had decided very early on that they wanted their children to have a good relationship with their grandmother, the only grandparent they’ll ever have. And they both knew that they’d need her help sooner rather than later.

“I suppose,” she says quietly. Any mention of Arielle’s death tends to suck the fight out of her. Even if she’s the one to mention it. “I trust that I’ll be seeing you and the children this weekend?”

“We’ll be there,” Quentin promises. The dinners were necessary if he wanted Fray and Teddy to have a connection to family. And at this point, Claire is all Quentin has, too.

“I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

“Bye,” he echoes. He waits until he’s sure that she’s hung up before he swears. Calls with Claire can be draining.

He glances at the clock. He swears. Again. He’s running late. Again

“Fray, Teddy! Come on guys! We’ve gotta pick up the pace! Wheels up in five!”

“We’re ready,” a voice says behind him. Teddy and Fray are already all kitted up with their backpacks and jackets. Teddy looks half-asleep still and Fray is annoyed, tapping at her watch. “We’re gonna be late, Dad,” she tells him.

Shit. How long had they been there? Had they been listening? Neither looked particularly emotionally distraught or anything, if a little annoyed about waiting, so hopefully not long.

He sighs. “Sorry, guys. Let’s get going.”

Fray all but herds her dad and brother into the car. Which doesn’t start. Quentin doesn’t swear again, but it’s close. This morning the car doesn’t want to start the first try or even the second try. Third time’s the charm, but it means that now Fray and Teddy are going to be late, not just Quentin.

“We’re always late,” Fray complains.

Quentin sighs. “I know, Fray. And I am sorry.”

She doesn’t answer. Quentin shifts in his seat, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. He resists the urge to turn around and make eye contact. He settles for checking rearview window. Fray doesn’t have her arms crossed, which is a good sign. But her face is pinched and she’s glaring out the window. Teddy is close to drifting back off to sleep beside her, his head leaning on her shoulder. Which might be the only reason she hasn’t crossed her arms.

He makes an attempt to break the silence. “Hey guys, guess who called this morning? Grandma Claire.”

And she had lectured him and tried to guilt trip him into moving them all to the other end of the state because Wilsonville was too much of an inconvenience. Of course, Quentin doesn’t say any of that out loud. For all that she, mostly quietly, disapproves of Quentin, Claire genuinely loves her grandchildren and he doesn’t want to influence their opinions of her and mess with that relationship. And, to be fair, the drive is a bit of a hassle.

Teddy wakes up a bit at that. “Grandma called?”

“Yup! She said she really misses you guys.”

“Did she say anything about Christmas?” Teddy asks. Teddy has been aiming for a family Christmas with all four of them together for some time now. It’s a definite possibility, but Quentin knows better than to make promises that aren’t his to make. Their grandmother might want to spend Christmas with the kids, but that might extend to their dad. They usually either just eat dinner at Claire’s for Christmas or they spend Christmas at home, but stay with their grandmother for New Year’s. They haven’t had Christmas all together since before their mom died three years ago.

“Sorry, bud. We didn’t talk for very long. We can make sure to ask her this weekend when we go see her.”

Teddy considers it a moment. “Okay.”

Fray remains silent and slumped in her seat. She's not quite old enough to pull off 'moody teenager.' Moody pre-teen, maybe.

They pull up in the school parking lot just as the morning bell rings. The kids yell their goodbyes as they rush out of the car, but neither Fray or Teddy look back.

Quentin watches nervously as Fray slips on the icy pavement before catching herself. Quentin doesn’t drive off until they’ve both disappeared into the building.  


Fuck. He is going to be so late.

Eliot’s phone rings. Ugh. It is way too early for this. He leans over the arm of the couch and tries to turn the tv on and the volume high, like that would distract him from the all too familiar ringtone. But he can’t find the remote. He knows exactly who’s calling. Eliot should just block the number, erase him from his life. Instead, he stuffs his phone under the couch cushion. It muffles the noise, but only slightly. Then the phone finally stops ringing.

There is a blessed moment of silence where Eliot relaxes enough to almost fall back to sleep.

* * *

The phone rings. Eliot swallows a groan and sits up. His head is killing him.

The phone doesn’t stop ringing. Eliot leaves it where it is and just straight up walks away from the couch and the muffled but still ringing phone. He grabs a bottle of water before rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him, as if that will keep the world and shitty exes out.

The shower finally, gloriously drowns out the echo of the phone ringing in his ears.

He takes his time, not wanting to face the world until he’s properly made up. By the time he leaves the bathroom, he is freshly showered and put together.

  
His mind is much clearer when the phone rings one last time. He grabs it and answers it without looking. “What do you want now?”

  
“...Eliot?”

  
Fen? Shit. He’s glad he’s had time to wake up. He just hopes she hasn’t been the one calling all morning. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”  
“Are you okay? Do I have to beat someone up?”  
“I’m all the better for hearing your voice,” he tells her, the Eliot Waugh Charm™ on high.  
She laughs at him. “Oh, Eliot. You never change.” He winces, glad she can’t see him. He’s ready for the day, but there’s only so much one can do to hide bags under their eyes and she has no idea just how much he’s changed over the last month, let alone the past year since she last saw him, outside of the occasional video call.  
“So how’s Mayberry? Any lads, or ladies, come a’courting?”  
Fen is so very patient when she responds, “No, no one yet. Wilsonville is fine.”  
“They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”  
Fen laughs before moving on to the reason of her call. “Eliot, I called to ask you something. A favor.”  
He’s almost scared to ask. But it’s Fen, and they owe so much to each other. Fen was the only aspect of his old life that he allowed into this new one. They grew up together. In high school, Fen was the best fake girlfriend a guy could ask for. She was the only part of his early life that he would ever acknowledge and he could never deny her anything. They owed each other too much. Just because their summer flings weren’t real didn’t mean the friendship wasn’t.  
So he asks anyway. “What is it?”  
“I own and run a store, I told you about it?” He vaguely recalled something about that. He wouldn’t remember it all if it weren’t Fen, as he was usually so devoted to forgetting that Wilsonville, Indiana existed.  
“Wilson’s, right?”  
“We only have so many employees, Ted and I. Ted’s my business partner. We co-own and run the store together.”  
“Alright.” He isn’t quite sure where this is going. But he’s not sure he likes it.  
“Well, it being the whole Christmas season, we need help around the store. Most of our employees have had to back out of working the holidays. Between honeymoons, health issues, and just plain quitting ‘to pursue their dreams in the big city’ we’re down to only a handful of employees, and one of them will be on maternity leave sooner rather than later. And with Ted’s health problems I could really use some help around the store.”  
“Fen,” Eliot says. “What exactly is this favor?” He knows in his bones what she’s going to ask. But he’s hoping beyond all hope that he’s wrong and she needs help finding a good temp agency or something. She can’t be asking what he thinks she’s asking. She just can’t.  
“Eliot,” she starts. “Will you please come back to Wilsonville?”  
Eliot swallows down the acidic taste in the back of his throat, the tight feeling in his chest, the chill down his spine. And he tells her, “Of course I’ll come.”  
“Oh, Eliot, will you really? I know I’m asking a lot-”  
“Of course! It’s no trouble,” Eliot tells her. They both know he’s lying. “After all, I’d hate to deprive you of the Eliot Waugh Holiday Experience.”  
“Thank you so much, Eliot. Don’t worry, it’s not for long! Just until after the holidays. Or until we can find a few extra hands. Whichever comes first.”  
“Right.” Eliot clears his throat. “Well, I hate to cut this short but I better get going. A lot to do today.”  
They say their goodbyes and talk-to-you-soon’s.  
It’s strange, but as much as Eliot is dreading spending Christmas in Wilsonville, he’s almost looking forward to it.

* * *

“Don’t say it, Penny. I already know what you’re going to say: ‘You’re late, Coldwater.’”  
“Uh-huh,” Penny Adiyodi, his shift manager says. “Any idea how late?”  
Quentin glances to the clock on the wall before he can stop himself. It’s a rhetorical question, he knows.  
“Coldwater-,” Penny cuts himself off before starting again. “Quentin. Let me level with you.”  
He leans in and lowers his voice. “I get that you’ve had a rough few years. But the bereavement period is over. I liked Arielle. She seemed pretty cool and I wish I could’ve gotten to know her better, all things considered.” Penny pauses and glares at an employee who's gotten a little close to their conversation down until he scampers off with a squeak. “You know Reynard is on my ass about you. You’ve taken too many days off and you’re late more often than not. It’s all adding up and he’s got management cracking down with a new policy about things. Like, for instance, being late and having too many absences. He's gotten more hands on lately so it's a lot more dangerous for you right now.”  
“I know. And I’m trying, I am.”  
“Probably the only reason you haven’t been let go is because it’s the holidays.” He sighs. “I wish I could say it’s because he has the holiday spirit or some shit like that, but we need as many hands as we can get.” Penny straightens up. “I may have pulled some strings. You have until the holidays to get your head on straight, Coldwater.”  
Quentin sighs in relief. “Thanks, Penny. I appreciate this.”  
“Just don’t spread it around, Coldwater. I’ve got a reputation. I’ve got to keep you all in line, you know.”  
“My lips are sealed,” he promises. Penny claps him on the shoulder and they go their separate ways: Penny to the office and Quentin to the registers to start his shift.

For all his bluster about reputation and the cool aloof boss-guy persona, Penny was good people.  
Arielle had teased Quentin about Penny. Like, all the time. Horribly.  
It had started their first Christmas in Wilsonville, soon after they’d moved there, after he had had to quit his old and before Arielle’s health got really bad and she could still do her job as a book editor, if only from home.  
It was after his first Christmas party after starting at Reynard’s. He’d introduced her to his co-workers and his bosses (Reynard hadn’t been there, of course. He had had much more prestigious parties to attend in far bigger cities. Quentin wouldn't meet him for another year, at least). When they got home and relieved the babysitter from her duties for the night, Ari had blindsided him with questions about his ‘hot manager.’  
“Should I be worried about him?” she’d asked as they were getting ready for bed.  
“Who, Penny? I don’t think he likes me very much.”  
“So, if he liked you I would have to be worried?”  
Quentin had blushed and stumbled over his words. “No! Of course not, I didn’t mean-, I don’t want to-,” Then he’d seen the grin on her face. “Shut up.”  
“You shut up.”  
“What are you, four?”  
“You think he’s pretty, don’t you?”  
“Penny isn’t pretty. If anything he’s handsome.”  
That had been the wrong way to go. Obviously.  
She teased him in a sing-song voice, “You think he’s handsome.”  
Quentin had thrown his pillow at her. It had escalated to full out war and they ended up waking up Fray and Teddy who came to see what was going on. Ari recruited them to her side and they tackled Quentin. Which resulted in everyone tumbling to the floor in a pile of pillows, blankets, and Coldwaters.  
It was a good memory.  
Penny was good people. After Arielle died, Penny had helped out as much as he could at work- negotiating for a long bereavement period, clocking Quentin in himself when he was late, given him shifts that would let him pick up Fray and Teddy up from school as often as he could, and done everything a good manager could do but probably wasn’t supposed to. If it weren’t for Penny, Quentin probably wouldn’t have a job.  
If Reynard hadn't gotten so interest in the day-to-day running of the grocery store, it would've been perfect.

* * *

Eliot is so not looking forward to this. He’s booked a flight, but he couldn’t get anything earlier than Monday morning. And nothing before 9am. This was going to be so much fun.  
Of course Margo calls while he’s in the middle of packing. He puts it on speaker so he can’t use it as an excuse to stop packing.  
“Sorry, Bambi. Can’t talk right now.” He holds up two vests and tries to decide between them. He picks both. Versatility is important if he wants to be his absolute best. He needs his fashion armor if he’s going to-, if he’s going to go to-  
“What could you possibly be doing before noon, without me?”  
“I-. I’m packing.” Eliot drapes the vests over his suitcase. He sits down next to the suitcase and takes a deep breath. He can’t even say the words.  
“And where exactly do you think you’re going? Because our vacation will still be there once I’ve had proper vengeance on Mike and Friends.” God, he'd almost forgotten about that clusterfuck. Eliot's ex, Mike, had decided Eliot had become boring and had had an affair with one of their co-workers. Everyone in the office knew except for Eliot and, because Mike isn't an idiot and doesn't have a death wish, Margo.  
He swallows before answering. One trainwreck at a time, Waugh. “Indiana.”  
There’s a long pause.  
“Oh. My. God.”  
“My feelings exactly.” The yelling and/or intervention will start any moment, he’s sure.  
“What the ever loving fuck, Eliot.” Translation: what the hell is going on, Eliot. Or: what is the fuck is wrong with you, Eliot.  
“Fen called,” he explains.  
“Your beard from high school? What did she want?”  
“Not my beard. Her business partner has been sick lately, employees keep disappearing into the ether, and with the holidays she needs some help around the store. So she asked me.”  
“What, she doesn’t have any friends in Green Acres?”  
“None that could help out, no.”  
Margo says nothing. Eliot continues his packing. There’s no telling how long Margo will try to dissuade him over the phone before she decides to do it in person. Might as well pack while he still can.  
“When are we flying out?” Wait. Really?  
“Bambi-,” he starts, ready to convince her that he’s fine, he can do this.  
“Like hell I’m leaving you to deal with Ma and Pa Kettle and the other country bumpkins by yourself. I’m coming with.”  
“Margo. Thank you.”  
“Don’t thank me. After New Years, we are gone. Capisce?”  
“Capisco.”

* * *

After a long day at the Reynard Grocery, Quentin is beyond ready to go home and sleep. But first, he has to pick up the kids from the library’s afterschool program. It’s dark out, but it hadn’t snowed as bad as he thought and the roads are fine. When he gets to the library, the parking lot is nearly empty. He recognizes two of the cars as belonging to librarians. And, in the far corner, he can see Alice’s small sensible sedan. Good. He’s late, but not late enough that he had completely missed them.  
As Quentin enters the library, he can hear Teddy talking with Alice, though he can’t make out what is that they’re talking about. He heads toward the sound of their voices and he hears Alice from her spot at one of the librarian’s desks. “Teddy, Fray, it’s time to pack up. Your dad’s here.”  
“Daddy!” Teddy cries as he spins around in his chair across from her. There’s a chess set between them on the desk. Quentin feels a tightness in his chest. He didn’t know Teddy knew how to play chess. What else is he missing out on with them? He puts on a smile as Teddy gets up and all but tackles him.  
“Hey, buddy! Did you get your homework done?”  
“Of course we finished our homework. That’s all they let us do when we get here,” Fray says. She’s standing next to one of the library tables, shoving folders and books into hers and Teddy’s backpacks and won’t look at him. She isn’t wearing her boots. Instead she’s traipsing around in a pair of mismatched fuzzy socks: one striped blue and pink, one solid purple. Quentin makes a note to himself to make sure he needs to do the laundry this weekend. Or maybe it’s just for the aesthetic?  
Alice stands up behind the desk, smoothing down her sweater. She clears her throat and nods at Quentin. They need to talk.  
“That’s great! Why don’t you guys get your coats on while I talk with Ms. Alice? Then we can head out and see your grandma and start the weekend.”  
Fray sighs but follows an energized Teddy to the library’s coat closet. Well, it’s more of a janitor’s closet that gets used as a coat closet in winter when having everyone’s puffy winter coats with them would be too inconvenient.  
Quentin waits until they’re practically in the closet before he joins Alice.  
“Should I ask about Fray’s boots?”  
“She claims they were too wet and squeaky to concentrate on her homework,” she tells him. Quentin notes a tension in her face and a tight line on her right cheek. From experience, he knows that it’s from biting the inside of her cheek.  
“Was it that bad today?”  
When he asks, Alice releases some of the tension in her face, no longer having to save face in front of a student’s parent. She doesn’t usually interact with library patrons, or students, or student’s parents. This whole volunteer thing is really outside her wheelhouse  
“She didn’t actually start the complaints until after the other children left, but yes. Officially, I’m not part of the afterschool program, so it shouldn’t be a problem, but she keeps refusing to talk to anyone once she’s done with her homework.”  
Quentin sighs. It was becoming a problem. Fray resented being left with anyone after school, even at the library with her friends who had parents who also worked late. Fen didn’t agree with Quentin on the subject of staying home alone with Teddy until Quentin came home from work.  
“Fray also kept kicking things under the table. Eventually, we just gave in and let her take the boots off.”  
Quentin realizes he hasn’t said anything in response and flushes. It was nice of Alice, all things considered, to be so invested in Fray and Teddy. By all accounts, she didn’t like children and Fray seemed to dislike her, if only for the fact that she was technically their babysitter.  
“And Teddy?” He always felt awkward asking Alice about his kids. Even if she babysat sometimes and was volunteering for the afterschool program, they weren’t really her responsibility. She had no reason to be so invested in them.  
“He was fine. But he’s got a lot of energy that he needs to burn off. They both do.”  
“And sitting around a library for hours on end isn’t exactly the best outlet for that.”  
He sighs. He can’t have Fray watching Teddy by herself until he gets home at night. It’s not fair to either of them. And Alice works late, too, though not as late as Quentin. He knows if it weren’t for his kids, she’d probably be home at least an hour earlier. He feels bad for having stolen another Friday night from her.  
Quentin had made an attempt to get back into the dating scene roughly a year and a half after Ari had died. He had the kids, but he missed having someone in his life to share things with. Just a few dates, a few men, a few women, but the dating pool in Wilsonville and the surrounding area wasn’t exactly vast and he’d barely had the time or focus. He and Alice had dated, for only a brief time, two years after Ari had died. Alice had been his last attempt, and it might’ve worked, it almost worked, except the chemistry just wasn’t there. Thankfully, they’d both realized that early and had agreed to end things amicably. But it had been awkward after they ended things when they realized that Alice had moved into the house next door and they were neighbors. If it weren’t for her working at the library and volunteering for the afterschool program, they might not have interacted beyond the occasional ‘here’s your mail’ or ‘weather’s fine today.’  
“What are you going to do after the 19th?”  
Quentin jerks back out of his thoughts. “Hmm?”  
“The 19th is the last day of school before winter break starts. What are your plans for after the start of winter break? The afterschool program is only for days the school is open and the program won’t start up again until mid-January.”  
He sighs. Because honestly? He has no freaking idea. He could leave them with their grandmother for the week leading up to Christmas, but it would be awkward and he’d miss having the kids.  
“I still have a couple weeks to figure it out, at least.”  
They both stop talking once Fray and Teddy head back into earshot, having put back on their coats, gloves, and, in Fray’s case, her winter boots.  
“Thanks for this, by the way.”  
“It’s no trouble.” They both know that’s not strictly the truth, but they ignore it like everything else. “You’re my friend, Quentin. That’s what friends do.”  
Quentin doesn’t respond. He’s honestly a little shocked. He always thought their relationship history and his whole deal made things too awkward for them to be friends. Now, Alice might be the only friend he has.  
“But, Quentin, my mother wants me to join them for Christmas. I won’t be after the 15th and I won’t be back until New Year’s. I won’t be able to watch Fray and Teddy.”  
“Right. It’ll be fine. I’ll work something out.” They both know it’s not as easy as that. He’s losing his only reliable babysitter a week before he thought he would.  
He doesn’t say anything else, just gives her an awkward, stiff wave before herding his kids outside and to the car.

Claire is waiting for them at the door when they pull up. The kids jump out to meet her, Teddy at a run, Fray at a much more sedate pace.

“Sorry we’re late,” Quentin says as he hauls the kids’ things out of the car and to the house.

“Oh, I don’t mind. Dinner can always be reheated. I’m just glad you all could make it!” She gives each of them a hug, kids first of course. “Freya, Theodore, why don’t you head on inside? I have a treat waiting for you in the kitchen.”

“Race you!” Fray tells Teddy before speeding away. Teddy yells at her, but follows after her and they both disappear into the house.

“Let me guess- cookies?” Claire nods, smiling. She loves to spoil Fray and Teddy. Though she just can’t get used to calling them Fray and Teddy and not their full names, no matter how often Quentin, Teddy, or Fray remind her. Ari hadn’t been able to get her to remember, either.

“You know you’re going to spoil their dinner,” Quentin tells her. He smiles to let her know he’s only joking. Claire just laughs and smiles back. Moments like these, where Quentin feels comfortable enough to tease and joke with Claire would have made Ari proud and are part of what make these dinners bearable.

“Were the roads bad? I know it’s such a long drive. It can’t be good to drive in this weather.”

“The roads were fine. The weather’s not that bad yet.”

“Well, good. I hate the idea of you all driving so late on bad roads.”

Quentin stifles a sigh. This has become a routine part of these dinners. They arrive late, Claire subtly mentions the long drive, which leads to a segue into suggesting that they all just move in with her and avoid driving to see her all together. Which isn’t going to happen. Not now, at least. Not unless things get worse. Much worse.

“Don’t worry, I’m very careful,” he assures her, trying to cut her off at the pass.

“You wouldn’t have to be so careful driving at night if you would just-”

Teddy yells from inside the house, cutting her off. “Grandma! Where’s the tv remote?”

Quentin hides a smile. Teddy to the rescue. It’s not that he doesn’t like Claire or has anything against moving in with her. He likes her fine, it’s that he’s still not sure that she likes him. She was never shy about telling Ari what she thought of her and Quentin’s relationship. When they announced their engagement, they were both wary that she might refuse to come to their wedding. But Claire had came to the wedding and gave her congratulations and all that, but she’d also not hidden her displeasure, criticizing the tiniest details, tried to micromanage everything herself, and had rarely even spoke to Quentin except when necessary.

She’d gotten better about it over the years, especially after Ari got really sick. She’d become almost sickly sweet to him after the funeral and hadn’t done anything to seem like she hated him since. Quentin still wasn’t sure, though, whether she liked him or if she just tolerated his presence because of Fray and Teddy.  
Dinner is uneventful, though the food is great as usual. It’s one of the things that Quentin actually looks forward to- good food that he doesn’t have to make or pay for.

He just has to deliver Teddy and Fray and he gets a free meal. It’s a good system. Claire gets to see and spoil her kids, the kids get to see their grandma and get spoiled, Quentin gets to eat good food and talk to an adult he doesn’t work with or used to date. Everyone wins!

Claire drops several more hints about moving, but they slide past them each time, until finally it’s time for Quentin to head back home.

“Are you sure you want to drive home? I have plenty of room. You don’t have to drive all the way back to Wilsonville tonight.”

“No, it’s fine. I have work in the morning and I wouldn’t want to be late!” Definitely don’t want to be late. This weekend is his chance to prove that he’s trying to do better- by getting to work on time and taking extra shifts.

All weekend, he’s at Reynard’s. He’s on time on Saturday morning and on he’s actually early on Sunday morning, to make up for having to leave early that afternoon to get the kids. When Penny sees him working, he doesn’t smile but he tells him, “Good work, Coldwater.”

All in all, it’s a good weekend.

The trouble doesn’t start until Sunday afternoon when Quentin picks up the kids from Claire’s.

Claire doesn’t start the usual negotiations until the kids are waiting in the car Quentin is loading the kids’ stuff from inside the house. “This is just silly. Think of how much easier it would be if you just moved here! You’d have so many more options. I know a man at the newspaper who would hire you in a heartbeat! You wouldn’t have to work at that, that grocery store. I just don’t understand why you refuse to move here!”

“Claire, we’re fine in Wilsonville. We don’t need to move. And I was a book editor, I’ve never worked in journalism.” Though he doesn’t mind the idea of a job that isn’t retail.

“But why?”

“Because-” Why can’t she understand? He doesn’t know what he can say to convince her. “Because, we live in Wilsonville. Their mother is buried in Wilsonville, my mother is buried in Wilsonville. It’s home.”

She counters, “If you lived here, we could still go down to see their graves. Nothing wouldn’t stop that. You would have it so much easier here. That deadbeat job, the small house, they’re not necessary! Not when you have a better option!”

Quentin grits his teeth. “Look, I’m fine with my job and our house. Unless things get really bad, we’re fine in Wilsonville. And we’re not moving in with you!”

Quentin doesn’t realize he’s raised his voice until he practically shouts the last sentence. He doesn’t think he’s ever raised his voice at Claire before and he regrets it instantly. God, but he’s usually so much better at avoiding confrontation.  
Claire’s face is full of shock as he stutters out an apology. She’s silent when he loads the kids’ thinks into the trunk. And she’s still silent when he tells her they’ll be here for dinner in two weeks. She waves at them when they leave, blows kisses at the kids through the car windows, but she never says a word.

Fray confronts him after he puts Teddy to bed and he’s changed into his pajamas.  
“Dad, why were you and grandma fighting?”  
“We weren’t fighting,” he denies. “Just. Disagreeing?” Fray isn’t convinced.  
“You yelled,” she accuses. “You never yell.”  
“I know. I’m sorry I yelled. And I’m sorry if I scared you. Or Teddy.”  
She shrugs. “It wasn’t scary. Just, just weird.”  
“I’m sorry,” he says again. Fray keeps things close to her chest, so her coming to him about this tells him more than her words do.  
His eyes scan Ari’s vanity and sees her jewelry box. The sight of her things doesn’t affect as much as it once did. He gets an idea.  
“Hey, can you go over to the mirror for me?”  
“Yeah, I guess.” She goes over to the vanity and runs her hands slowly over Ari’s things. But they pass over them to open the box where Quentin keeps buttons and cufflinks. “What do you need?”  
He starts digging through the closet. “The jewelry box. The one with the roses on it, please.”  
She brings it over to the bed, but she asks,“What do you want this for?”  
“Just a minute.” He finds what he’s looking for: a shoebox. He’d put her affects in there, from when she’d…  
He places it next to the jewelry box.  
“Have a seat.”  
For once, Fray doesn’t groan or complain or question him. She can tell it’s important.  
Quentin opens the shoebox and lifts a locket out of it.  
“This,” he tells her, “was my mother’s. She left it to me when she died, and I gave it to your mom when we got married.” He holds it out to her. “I think she would want you to have it.”  
“What is it?”  
“A locket. Or, did you mean the star?”  
“The star,” she clarifies.  
“It’s the North Star. Or a compass rose. See?” He points to the letters etched around the edges of the locket. “North, East, South, West. As long as you have this, you can always find your way. No matter how confusing, or scary,” he thinks back to the phrasing she’d used. “Or how weird things get.”  
Fray takes it gingerly from him. She tries to open it, but it doesn’t budge. “Is it broken? Did I break it?”  
“No, I just never could figure out what happened to the key.”  
He starts to dig through the jewelry box, now, for a plain gold chain. “That chain the locket is on is from way back when my mom wore it. I thought you might want something a little newer to put it on.”  
“No, this one’s fine,” she says as she holds it to her chest as if to keep Quentin from taking it back. “Can I wear it to school?”  
“Of course!” Then he adds as an afterthought, “If you promise to be careful. And to leave it off during P.E.”  
“I promise,” Fray swears. Then she surprises him with a hug. “Thanks, dad.” He hugs her back and tries to keep his eyes from watering.

Monday morning, nothing seems to be going right. Quentin just feels off all morning, like there’s something wrong. A sense of impending doom. Or despair.  
Still, it’s nice to see Fray so happy. They’re running on time. But most importantly, she’s wearing the locket. It’s a bit long for her, he notes. He’ll have to remind himself to find a new chain, one that’s maybe a bit shorter, but looks like the old one since Fray seems to like it so much.  
It isn’t until he gets into the car that realizes what the feeling is. He thinks back to yesterday, to this morning. He’s missed a dose of his meds. More than one, now that he thinks about it. Shit. He’ll have to call the pharmacy again. This happens every month- the pharmacy forgets to mail him his meds and every month he forgets to call them so he can actually get his meds before he runs out. One of the downsides of smalltown life, he supposes. No 24-hour pharmacies, just a Mom and Pop operation.  
Even with the issue with his meds, they’re surprisingly on time.  
And everything else is going well.  
So, of course, everything starts going wrong again.  
“Dad!” Fray cries out in alarm from the backseat.  
Shit! “What is it, what’s wrong?” he asks, also in alarm.  
She holds the locket out by his head. “The clasp broke! It won’t stay on!”  
“I’m sorry, Fray. I told you the chain is old.”  
“Can you fix it?”  
“Not right now. But we can see about putting it on a new chain when we get home, okay?”  
Quentin is in the middle of stuffing the locket and chain into his coat pocket when a car skids on the ice in front of them and drives straight into a snowdrift.

Ted Coldwater doesn’t know what’s happening. His head is resting against the steering wheel? There is something warm on his face, getting into one of his eyes. Ted doesn’t understand. What happened?  
He and Fen had been on their way to Wilson’s after the appointment with Ted’s doctor. It was good news. A clean bill of health. If he’s so healthy, why does everything feel so wrong?  
He can hear a car horn. Some yelling. Something about a car wreck? That was about him, wasn’t it?  
Ted can’t breathe. He has to get outside. That’s what you do, isn’t it? You’re supposed to get away from the car. Or is that just in the movies. Ted can’t remember.  
The door opens easily when he tries it. Actually getting out of the car is less easy. He fumbles at his seatbelt and can barely manage to unbuckle it, and he doesn’t so much step out of the car as he does fall out of it.  
Ted’s vision swims. Everything blurs.  
He can hear someone talking to him, but the voice is muffled and he can’t quite make out the words yet. He can’t focus on the source.  
“Sir, are you okay?” An EMT? The owner of the voice helps him step away from the car. Every step is agony. There's a pain in his left leg that shoots with every step. They both slowly make their way to the curb, where Ted sits down and he remembers that Fen is still in the car.  
“Fen.”  
“What?“  
“In the car.” He has to get this out. “Fen, she’s still in the car.”  
“Don’t worry. Help is on the way.”  
The voice leaves and Ted loses time. His ears are still ringing. He realizes the horn of the car is blaring. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t remember hitting it.  
When the voice returns, his vision is better. Ted finds himself staring at a bright red beanie. He can’t look away from it. Is there a person beneath it? All he can see is the beanie. “We called 911. An ambulance is on the way, okay? You and your friend are going to be okay.”  
Ted loses more time. The next thing Ted knows, he’s sitting in the back of an ambulance being checked for a concussion while Fen is being strapped to a stretcher beside him. He doesn’t think to ask about the man the voice belonged to until much, much later and by that time no one knows what happened to the man.

Quentin drops off Fray and Teddy at school with multiple hugs and ‘good job’s for keeping their heads in a crisis. But he is so late for work when he calls Penny to let him know he’s on his way.  
“Come on, Coldwater. I thought I told you to stay under the radar!”  
“I know, I know and I’m on my way now. There was a wreck and I couldn’t just drive off- this guy was bleeding and- ”  
“Okay, okay. Look, I can’t talk now. The owner is here.”  
Quentin swears loudly. And swears again when he remembers the kids. He takes a deep breath and looks at the backseat. He knows it’s empty, he just dropped them off. Keep it together, Coldwater. The events of this morning are really throwing him off.  
“I can’t stall forever. So, just get here fast as you can, but watch those roads. He’s gonna notice that you’re late again sooner rather than later, and he’s in a bad mood.”  
“When isn’t he in a bad mood?” Quentin regretted it as soon as he says it. He probably shouldn’t be shit-talking his boss to his manager, but it’s not like his life could get any worse.  
“Just get here before he realizes you’re not here.”

“Coldwater.” Quentin winces. That wasn’t Penny’s voice. Shit. “You’re late!”  
He turns around slowly, wanting to delay the inevitable and preparing in his mind what he can possibly say to make this all better. Mr. Reynard is glaring at him and tapping at the watch on his wrist. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”  
“I know I’m late, but there was an accident and- “ Reynard cuts him off.  
“No excuses! I’m not running a charity here, Coldwater!” Quentin feels his heartbeat go faster. It’s finally happening, isn’t it. He vaguely notes Penny practically running from the office with what was probably concern on his face but Quentin has a lump in his throat and Mr. Reynard is yelling and he knows where this is going.  
“Please, I have kids. I need this job,” he begs. “This job is all I have.”  
“Everyone has kids and everyone needs this job! If you need this job, you should have been coming to work. I’m not going to waste money on workers who can’t bother to come to work on time.”  
“Please, sir-“  
“You are consistently, chronically late. It’s unacceptable. This was the last straw. You’re fired. Collect your things and go.” With that, Reynard turns and walks away, already having dismissed Quentin Coldwater from his mind. Like he hasn’t just thrown Quentin’s life in a downturn in a single moment.  
Quentin doesn’t move. He can’t move. Blood rushes in his ears.  
“Hey. Hey, Coldwater,” Penny says beside him. “Quentin. You have to go.”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll just- “ Quentin cuts himself off. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. But Penny’s right, he can’t stay here. He can feel himself losing grip. He has to go. Has to go somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here.  
Quentin gathers his things in a daze. It’s not much. The meager protein bar and banana he’d brought for lunch. He’ll leave the red vest and name tag, but the red beanie is his. Not that he’ll be wearing it again any time soon, he thinks. He can't find his coat. Then he remembers he gave it to the woman from the car accident. He doesn't regret it, per se, but he's going to feel the cold for sure. But now all Quentin has is a sweater vest and a jacket he keeps in the car to keep warm. He'll have to look out for some of his old coats. Maybe in his college things, he thinks absentmindedly.

When he gets in his car to leave, he can only sit there with his hands on the wheel. What is he going to do?  
With no more paychecks coming, Quentin can only think of everything that can go wrong. The water heater takes too long to heat up the water in the bathroom. There’s something wrong with the heater or the air filter, some of the vents only blow cold air no matter what the thermostat is set at. He can’t always get the car to start on cold mornings. It hasn’t happened in a while, but they’ve had to bum rides off of Alice during past winters. The washing machine leaks. At night there’s a loud knocking sound coming from the attic that might just be pipes heating or cooling, but also might be a leak.  
Not all of these are directly Quentin’s responsibility, but it’s difficult not to worry. What with the landlord being away on vacation to see family for the holidays and largely out of contact.  
He can’t go home. He just can’t sit around and wait. Waiting to give bad news is almost as bad as waiting to receive it and he can’t stand the idea of just sitting around and waiting for Fray and Teddy to get home. So he parks the car on main street and just. Walks. Walks from block to block, crossing the street to avoid people when he can. The numbness fades into just being cold from the weather, not the impending emotional breakdown that is sure to come soon. He usually gets a little weepy from lack of meds. He walks and walks until he’s back on main street in front of Betty’s.  
It's only after having walked and walked, does he remember the old college sweatshirt he keeps in the car. Damn.  
Having calmed down some, Quentin tries calling his old psychotherapist, but he just gets a busy signal. Shit. Fuck. He calls the pharmacy to let them know he needs a refill of his meds and he needs them yesterday.  
Finally, he gets off the phone and walks into Betty’s. He can always call again after he’s warmed up. And he needs to eat something. Even if that something is one of Betty’s sugary cinnamon buns with the gooey sweet stuff.

The morning is terrible. He can’t get ahold of Fen to tell her they landed safely. The weather is just as miserable as Eliot feels. Both he and Margo are cranky from the early flight, though neither would admit to it outside of the general complaints. And, worst of all, they’re heading to Wilsonville.  
Eliot had never expected to be in Indiana for Christmas. Or ever. He is a firm believer of the phrase “You Can’t Go Home Again” which may or may not be from a country song. He’s not sure at this point. But the point stands- given the choice, Eliot would have gladly avoided and never again stepped foot in the state of Indiana for the rest of his life, let alone go anywhere near his hometown. And yet, he finds himself in Indiana, not for work or something vaguely tolerable, but in a rental car heading to Wilsonville.  
After landing in Indianapolis, Margo had insisted on driving the tiny rental car and had gotten her way by glaring him into submission until he had inevitably stepped back from the driver’s side door and retreated into the car and safely into the passenger’s seat.

Eliot inspects the GPS for the tenth time. That can’t be right. He could’ve sworn they should have turned left ten miles back, but the GPS (and Margo) had insisted otherwise. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was wrong.  
“Now say, ‘of course, you were right, Margo.’”  
“You were right, Margo,” he parrots dutifully, but with little emotion or pizzaz.  
“That’s what I do, Eliot. I drink and I know things.”  
“Thank you, Tyrion.”  
She wags a finger at him, but never takes her eyes off the road. Road safety, it’s a thing. “Don’t take that tone with me, young man. You know I’m right.” Had this been a trip to literally anywhere else, Eliot is sure that she would have threatened to turn this car around. As it was, it was too much of a risk that Eliot would take her up on it. So she doesn’t say it.  
Eliot sighs. “Of course you’re right, Bambi.”  
“Damn right I’m right. So when do we meet up with your high school sweetheart? I can’t wait to finally meet your beard.”  
“Fen’s not my beard,” Eliot protests. But Margo isn’t exactly wrong. During high school, once they’d figured out that neither of them was particularly interested in one another that way, Fen had been Eliot’s beard as much as he had been hers. Or, whatever the equivalent term is for lesbians. Is there one? God he needs a drink. Or a cigarette. Which, is of course a bad idea. But this seems to be the month for bad ideas. How else would you explain going back home after a decade of avoiding it?  
“We’ll meet at Wilson’s and head out to eat. Ted, that’s her boss, co-owner, or whatever, has a doctor’s appointment or something that she’s taking him to.”  
“What do we do until then?” God. Margo Hansen in Wilsonville. They don’t have any idea what’s coming to them.  
“Coffee. There’s this bakery on main street that is to die for. It was the high school hangout, if you can believe it. It’s been there forever and Betty can make a mean latte.” And she had a soft spot for Fen, which extended to him. “And it’s across the street from Wilson’s, so we won’t be too far away when they get there.”  
“Pastries and coffee it is.”  
They stop for gas just outside of town. Eliot goes in while Margo gets and pays at the pump. Outside of Eliot giving directions to the bakery, neither of them speak when they get back in the car and drive into the heart of Wilsonville.

Eliot resists the urge to look around and see if any of his high school ‘friends’ are in Betty’s. It’s a small bakery/restaurant/coffeeshop. It can only fit so many people, so many tables and chairs, so there aren't a lot of people. Sadly, there's no sign of Betty. It could be her day off, or, more likely, she's baking in the back.  
This shouldn’t take too long. And with Margo waiting in the car, he has an excuse ready to hightail it out of there if anyone, god forbid, tries to push smalltown small talk on him while he’s waiting.  
Speaking of, the woman behind the counter seems to know the couple who were ahead of Eliot in line, and insists on striking up conversation with them before taking their order. Ugh. Eliot so did not miss Midwestern Politeness and Hospitality.  
Not wanting to interact with the conversation in front of him, he gives in to curiosity and takes a look around at the few occupied tables. There’s a woman typing furiously on a laptop. Spread out at the large table near the front window, having taken possession of chairs from the two empty tables, sits a group of teenagers who may or may not be skipping school - to hang out at Betty’s? Well, to each their own, he thinks.  
Eliot’s eyes land on the final occupied table, the tiny table in the corner. It was a favorite of students studying for tests due to its relative isolation. It was the smallest table in Betty’s, room enough for just one person. And just far enough away from the other tables and the counter where Eliot is waiting for him to not be able to hear most of what the man sitting there is saying into his phone.  
The man has sort of, floppy hair that falls over his face in an awkward but kind of attractive way. His jacket, not a winter coat, was draped over the table and he was wearing a sweater vest of all things! It was hard to tell with him sitting down, but he seemed shorter than Eliot. Then again, most people were. What was less cute-awkward and more awkward-awkward was that Eliot seems to be viewing the man while in the midst of some kind of breakdown.  
Floppy Hair is all but crying, with signs of previous tears on his face. He's speaking softly but quickly into his phone, obviously trying not to draw attention to himself from the other patrons. But his voice occasionally rises enough that Eliot could catch a few words and disjointed sentences: “doctor,” “need to talk,” “please,” “crisis.” It occurs to Eliot that he should probably stop listening to the man during what seemed to be an urgent call to the man’s psychiatrist or something.  
Eliot hates to do it, but he spins on the spot before the man can see him staring and shifts his stare to the meager menu on the wall behind the counter and does his absolute best to tune out the man’s voice. He listens to the idle small talk happening in front of him, the woman’s frantic typing, anything but Floppy Hair In The Corner.  
But when he finally orders his and Margo's coffees, he is all too aware of the distressed phone call happening behind him.  
While he waits for his and Margo’s order, he doesn’t sit down to wait. The only empty tables with any chairs left untouched and not shoved over by the teens are situated right next to the man and Eliot is not about to get up into someone else’s conversation with their psychiatrist. There are lines you just don’t cross, and messing with someone else’s therapy is one of them. He doesn’t want to eavesdrop or intrude on the conversation, so he just stands awkwardly by the counter and resolutely ignores everyone else in the bakery. Eliot may never see this man again, but he doesn’t want it to be awkward. So he just avoids the situation altogether.  
But as he leaves, Margo and his coffees and baked goods in tow, he steals one last glance at the man in the corner. He isn’t on his phone anymore, and is just holding his head in his hands. Eliot stamps down the urge to go over and talk to him and instead marches through the door and to the car. He shouldn’t get involved- he’s already doing his Good Deed for the year.

Quentin rubs his hands together as he steps out of Betty’s and back into the cold. The air is cold enough now that he can see his breath. What was he thinking, going out when it was this cold? Sure, he gave his coat to that woman in the car wreck, but how could he have lost his hat and gloves?  
He feels a little calmer, now that he’s spoken to someone about what happened, even if it was only Dr. London’s secretary. And he has an appointment to speak to her tomorrow morning so that’s something.  
As he walks out onto the sidewalk, he sees Betty messing with something in the backseat of her car. Her back is to him and she hasn’t seen him yet, but she’s sure to want to ask about his life. His job. He just can’t handle that right now. The street is mostly deserted- just him, Betty, and a man smoking across the street. Quentin decides to take his chance across the street.  
He ducks his head down and scurries across the street before Betty can see and recognize him. Quentin starts down the sidewalk towards the pharmacy to pick up his meds. After that will be home, or to the library to look for job listings, he thinks. Alice would probably help.  
As he gets closer, Quentin’s eyes keep drifting towards the man, who is now on a cellphone and is completely ignoring anything going on around him. The man exudes a certain sense of aloofness towards his surroundings that Quentin finds himself envying. Like the rest of the world is an afterthought in this guy's life. He is tall and slender, in all black. Long black coat. Black scarf. Black leather gloves. Large black sunglasses that almost hide the man’s pale pink face and dark stubble. Curly black hair artfully draped over his forehead. The smoke from the man’s cigarette billows around him as he stands there, mixing with the vapor of his breath as they both cool, rise, and inevitably dissipate into the cold air.  
Quentin can’t see the man’s eyes but he can’t shake the feeling that the man is watching him from behind his dark sunglasses. He blushes and ducks his head, alternating between sneaking glances at the man and staring at the ground. If Quentin were in a better mood, he might say more to the man’s appearance. As it is, the man is attractive.  
But, now that he’s closer, Quentin can see a pinched look on his face as he speaks. He can’t hear the words at first, only snatches of half a conversation. But what he heard was strange.  
“Tell her not to worry. I’ll take care of everything.” A pause as whoever’s on the other side of the phone speaks. “Yeah, I got it. On Melrose Street.” Melrose? That was the street they lived on. Weird. “No, finding it won’t be a problem.”  
Quentin tries to ignore the private conversation and keeps walking until he’s past the man. He turns back to see him staring at his phone. He’s taken off his sunglasses and is rubbing at his eyes. He looks worried, maybe a little angry, but mostly he just looks. Lost.  
Quentin shakes his head and turns back towards the pharmacy. He has enough to deal with already, let alone the problems of a complete stranger.

Eliot hangs up from the call from the hospital. The first time he talks to Fen’s business partner and it’s to be told she’s been in an accident and he needs to go pick up their car or arrange for a tow truck, whichever works. Fen was unconscious at the moment, but had regained conscious at least once after the wreck so the doctors weren’t worried about that. But both she and Ted had bruised ribs and abrasions at the least. Ted himself had a She would be likely be released tonight or tomorrow, but Ted would be in the hospital for a few days. Neither of them would be able to work at Wilson’s this week.  
What is he going to do? He came to help Fen, but this is more than he signed up for. More than Margo signed up for. Eliot is in the middle of his worst nightmare and his one lifeline in this hellhole is out of commission, possibly badly hurt. He takes off his sunglasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He can definitely feel a migraine coming on.  
He calls Margo.  
“So. Slight change of plans.”

Margo takes them to Melrose Street, where Ted Coldwater's car has been parked along the side of the road by someone. Maybe whoever called the ambulance? Or someone who lives on this street? Eliot doesn't know, but the car looks surprisingly okay for having hit a snowbank. Not okay enough that he'd be willing to drive it, but okay enough that it can probably be restored to working order.  
The airbags are deployed. Eliot tries not to vomit when he sees blood on the passenger's airbag.  
While Margo calls a tow truck, Eliot calls Ted's mechanic. Together, they manage to arrange for the car to be towed to Ted's mechanic's auto shop. While they for the tow truck, they move the stuff from the car to their rental. Nothing much, Fen's phone and a car charger, some bills that Ted had thrown in the back seat.  
Once the car is on its way, they get in the rental and head to the hospital. This is turning out to be such a great day. Well, at least they've been productive.

Fen is awake and talking when they get there. There are bandages on her arms and some burns on her face. Did the airbags do that? He doesn't see anything that could have been the source of the blood on the airbag. For the first time since he's arrived in Wilsonville, he relaxes. Fen's okay. Bruised and battered, but okay.  
“Oh, Eliot! You’re here!”  
“Fen, my love!” He sets himself beside her on the small, very uncomfortable hospital bed and gives her a ginger hug, wary of her injuries. “I just couldn’t stay away.”  
“It’s nice to meet you, Eliot,” a tired voice says from the next bed over.  
Eliot raises his eyebrows in surprise. He recognized that voice. He’d heard it very recently. “Ted, I presume. They put you in the same room?”  
“The nurses can’t resist me,” Ted says.  
“He’s friends with most of the nurses,” Fen explains. “They know him from his treatments.”  
“Treatments?” Fen had mentioned doctor's appointments, but hadn't been specific.  
“I have, or had, a brain tumor. I'm in remission, have been for a few years, but they're pretty particular when it comes to brain tumors. So I come back regularly to make sure it hasn't recurred. So, I'm a bit of a regular here at the hospital.” He sips at a cup of water. “But more importantly, did everything go okay with the car?”  
“We had it towed like you asked. Your mechanic said he'd get you a quote by the end of the week if he can work on it, or you'll hear from tomorrow if he can't.” Eliot reaches into his pocket and pulls out Fen's phone. “Your phone, milady.” The screen is cracked and a small dent on the back, but it turns on just fine.  
“Oh, thank you! And thank you so much for coming. I know this is a lot more than you agreed to, but Eliot, we're going to need you two to run the store while we're out of commission.”  
Eliot sighs inwardly. He was afraid that might be the case. “Of course. You just focus on being on the mend.”  
Ted clears his throat. “I'm afraid I have another favor to ask of you.”  
Another favor. Because the last one worked out so well.  
“Me and Ted talked about it. A little bit, anyways.”  
“We were wondering if you could find the man who called 911. We want to thank him.”  
What? “How am I supposed to find him?”  
“You can ask the EMT's for information, they might be able to tell you his number or how to find him,” Fen tells him.  
He turns to Ted. “You don't remember anything? Hair color? Age?”  
“Just a bright red color. It wasn't hair, that much I know. But my vision was blurred. Everything's still a bit unfocused. A concussion.”  
It's not a lot to go on. Not by a long shot. But at least it would keep him from working retail. “Don't worry, I'll find your Good Samaritan for you.”

Fray and Teddy are much more cheerful when they get into the car than when they got out of it that morning, full of worry and scared from witnessing the accident. Quentin doesn’t have the heart to tell them what happened at work He’ll tell them tomorrow, after he’s spoken to Dr. London. But he knows that it must be at least a little strange for him to pick them up right after school like this, since usually they either go straight to the library on the bus with the other kids in the program or Alice picks them up and takes them home and watches them for an hour or so until Quentin gets home.  
“How was school?”  
“Oh, it was so cool, Dad. My class made paper snowflakes and snowflake chains in art class today. Our teacher even showed us how to make five-pointed snowflakes! It involves way more folding than regular paper snowflakes. He says if we’re still interested next semester, we can work on origami,” Teddy tells him excitedly.  
“Wow! I didn’t know you could make five-pointed paper snowflakes!”  
“Yeah, it was pretty cool,” Fray admits. “The art teacher did it for my class, too, and he told us an old superstition where you put a paper snowflake into an ice tray for a snow day.”  
“Can we try it, dad? I mean, it’s just make-believe, but it can’t hurt!”  
Quentin doesn’t tell them his worries about the possibility of frozen pipes or the heater breaking down, how there's no money for new winter coats or gloves, or how he has no way to pay rent and they might not even have a place to live after New Year’s.  
At least Fray and Teddy still have school for another two weeks. He doesn’t have to worry about their next meals or staying warm during the day. For now. He doesn’t tell them that a snow day would be his worst nightmare right now.  
He twists his face into a smile that he prays doesn’t look forced and tells them as cheerfully as he can, “Yeah, sure. If we’re lucky, we might have a real white Christmas this year!”  
Teddy is excited, but suddenly goes quiet before asking, “Dad, what happened to the people in the car crash today?”  
Quentin doesn’t know how he could have forgotten about the events that led to the clusterfuck that was this morning.  
“They’re going to be fine. They made it to the hospital okay,” he assures them. He didn’t know that for sure, but the EMTs hadn’t seemed too worried. The guy, he probably had a concussion or something from how out of it he was. And he had been limping, but that's fixable, right? He was less sure about the woman, but it looked like she had regained consciousness before Quentin had had to drive off.  
“I’m glad they’re okay,” Teddy says. “It was kind of scary.”  
“Yeah, it was a little scary, huh?” Quentin agrees. “But you guys did great. When I couldn’t find my phone right away, it was really good of you guys to notice that guy walking his dog. Real quick thinking.”  
“It was?”  
Quentin nods. “I am so proud of you.”  
Fray has been quiet, so he adds, “Both of you.”

The rest of the night is uneventful. Teddy and Fray do their homework while Quentin makes dinner. The cupboards are a little bare and he’s already dreading the idea of grocery shopping. He definitely won’t be going to Reynard’s. He’s sorely tempted to avoid shopping at all in Wilsonville to avoid seeing anyone he knows. Which isn't a lot of people, honestly. He hasn't really made any friends in Wilsonville. He's been too busy. Nope. Moving on. Too serious and depressing a thought.  
Since they don’t eat pasta very often, they have plenty of noodles and he found a can of sauce so it all works out. And since it’s Monday and the kids’ lunches are already paid til January, he can put off the shopping a few more days. He usually doesn’t have the time or energy after work to really cook dinner, so the kids just think it’s a nice change of pace from macaroni and frozen pizzas.  
As promised, after dinner all three of them make a paper snowflake, Fray and Teddy showing off their skills with five-pointed snowflakes, and place them in the freezer. Quentin is glad to see them so excited, even Fray has caught Teddy’s infectious exuberance.

The next morning, the kids are disappointed to see that it hadn’t snowed any more the night before, but they don’t let it bother them. Thy still have the promise of art class and more paper snowflakes.  
Quentin doesn’t let on that he’s isn’t going to work today when he drops them off and tells them to take the bus to the library after school. He’s not sure where his mental state will be after talking to his therapist, so it’s better if he knows that he doesn’t have to worry about getting them home after school.  
When he drives back home, it doesn’t feel right to go inside when the kids think he’s at work, so he just sits in the driveway, ready to wait a good half hour until his scheduled appointment. Then he sees Alice’s car in her driveway and he can’t handle anyone knowing. She hadn’t been at the library the afternoon before. He hadn’t realized, but it must’ve been her day off. So Alice didn’t know yet, that he’d lost his job. No one knew.  
So he avoids running into her or her seeing his car in the driveway, driving back to Betty’s Bakery. Maybe he’d see the guy from yesterday. He doesn’t know why, but Quentin sort of hopes he does. But then again, might not be the best idea.  
He dry swallows his meds as he heads into Betty’s and chooses the table furthest from the counter. This early in the day, there isn’t likely to be many customers so he’ll have some modicum of privacy. He figures he can always go back into his car once the call starts, but he can’t stand the idea of waiting all by himself.  
By the time he’s all settled at the table, it’s only 10:12. Another 28 minutes. Joy.

When the phone rings at 10:23, he’s confused but doesn’t check the caller id. He’s too jittery and beyond ready to finally speak to his therapist.  
“Quentin! There you are. I tried calling your work, but they said you don’t work there anymore. Is that true?”  
“Claire.” Fuck. Why did she have to call him now of all times? He sighs. “Yes, it’s true.”  
“What? When? What happened?”  
“It happened yesterday. Reynard, as in Reynard’s Grocery Reynard, fired me when I showed up late during one of his inspections and he decided to use me as an example, I guess.” He sighs again.  
“You should get right back into it,” she encourages. “Look at job listings, and you should start with job listings here.”  
“We talked about this. We’re not leaving Wilsonville.”  
“You don’t even have a job. How is this not the ‘worse’ situation you were talking about?”  
“Look, Claire, I'm in the middle of something can I call you back?”  
“No, we should discuss this-” Quentin hangs up. He regrets it, just as he regrets arguing with her. But he can’t do this right now. He just. Can’t. He’s barely pulling it together as it is. He can’t debate with Claire.  
He watches the clock and wonders, briefly, what Claire wanted to talk to him about to call him at work.

The call goes well. He feels so much better having finally spoken to someone about the whole situation. He even feels well enough to go back into Betty’s, having taken the call in the car as planned. He orders a small coffee and the biggest cinnamon bun they have. He needs that comfort food.  
“Coldwater.”  
A shiver goes down his spine. “Penny.”  
He turns around to see Penny, his now former manager, waiting at a table behind him. How had he missed him?  
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Quentin can’t help the bitterness from seeping into his voice.  
Penny stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Lunch break. Decided I needed coffee that doesn’t make me puke.”  
“And what, you have a sweet tooth?” Penny laughs. Quentin hadn't meant it as a joke, but he's glad Penny took it as one. He hadn't meant to say it meanly.  
“In all seriousness, how are you doing?”  
“It’s barely been 24 hours,” he says incredulously. “Did you think I’d have my life together already?”  
“Hell no. But, if you can’t find a job, I know a place.”  
“Yeah?” The quicker Quentin can get a new job, the better. He’s already behind on rent.  
“There’s a bookstore right off Main Street. The Story Never Ends. They need some extra help.” Penny scribbles something on a napkin and hands it out to him.“Just call this number. I’ll let them know to hear from you.”  
“Right. Thanks.” Quentin isn’t sure what else to say. What can he say?  
As he collects his order to leave, Penny tells him, “Good luck, Coldwater.”

“So we’re retail workers, now? This is a new low for us.” She inspects the ancient register with a critical eye.  
“Margo,” Eliot warns.  
“Oh, don’t worry,” she waves him off, pressing a button on the register. It beeps, but nothing else happens. “I won’t complain around the old man or your lovely beard. Much.”  
“And I truly appreciate your restraint.” He really wishes he could out for a smoke, but Margo would smell it when he came back in. He hasn't had a cigarette since the day they arrived in Wilsonville. It's been a few days, but still.  
“How long do we stay?” he asks. Margo and Fen had continued talking after he’d fallen asleep in the chair between Fen and Ted’s hospital beds. They got along surprisingly well. Well, not so surprising. Eliot was fairly selective with his best friends.  
“Just till Todd shows up for his shift. He can handle it from there.”  
“Todd?” Eliot asks in disbelief. He’d been a freshman when Eliot was a senior. Kept following him around, tried to steal his name. The nerve of him. “We’re never getting out of here.”  
“That was Fen’s assessment as well. But at least Todd hasn’t quit or disappeared for the holidays.”  
“There’s still time.”  
“....Anyways, once Todd gets here, I’ll be going to the hospital to keep those two company while you get to go on the epic quest of finding The Good Samaritan. Starting at ”  
“Is that what we’re calling him? Why don’t you look and I sit with Fen and co.?”  
“Because I don’t know my way around town. And I want to exchange notes on the embarrassing moments of your life with Fen.”  
That makes too much sense. And is also a little terrifying. Eliot has to find a way out of this.  
“You learn fast,” he argues. “You know you could know this place like the back of your hand in a hot second.”  
“Don’t try to use manipulate me with flattery. I already know I’m awesome, I don’t need you to tell me.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and pushes a button on the register. The drawer pops out. “Now, go fold shirts or something. I’ve almost figured this pile of rust out.”  
Eliot leaves her to it. He decides to memorize the layout of the store and where all the merchandise is. All the better to get customers out quicker. The less time spent talking to people the better.  
He wanders the store, but ducks away whenever someone comes in. Margo definitely notices. That conversation is certainly something to look forward to.  
He makes special note of the sporting goods area, easily one of the largest sections of the store after clothing and furniture, which he also makes note of.  
Eliot manages to avoid talking to anyone besides Margo for a good half hour when Todd finally shows up for his shift. Which he is an hour late to.  
“Sorry I’m late! You must be Margo! I’m Todd,” the man says, foolishly holding out his hand to shake hers.  
“I know,” Margo drawls, looking him up and down. She doesn’t take his hand. “Eliot! Time to go!”  
“Coming, Bambi,” he calls from where he has been rearranging the bin of sports balls into a pyramid shape. What can he say? He was bored. And he does loves balls.  
Eliot nods at him. “Todd.”  
“Eliot! It’s good to see you!”  
“Oh, I know it is. Didn't you hear? I’m God’s gift to Wilsonville this year,” he says sardonically.  
Todd laughs. The poor fool.

The EMT's are a bust. They can't give him the personal information of the 911-caller, like his phone number. But they do tell him that he was walking his dog on Melrose.  
His first lead.

Quentin calls the number Penny gave him the next day. By then, he’d finally told Teddy and Fray about what had happened.  
“I knew it was weird,” Teddy had said. “You never complained about being late!”  
Fray had told him, “And you haven’t even worn your vest. It was kind of obvious, dad.” In hindsight, that was pretty telling. He's almost glad they never asked, but regrets not telling them sooner, especially with how well they've taken it.

A woman answers the phone. “The Story Never Ends Bookstore, how can I help you?”  
“Hi, I was told that you’re hiring?” Why did he have to say it like a question. This is going to end in tears, and they’re going to be his.  
“We’re hiring. We’re looking for someone to watch the store on weekday mornings. Are you available for an interview?”  
“Yeah, sure.” This actually seems to be going well. How long will that last? “When do you want me to come in?”  
“Can you come in tomorrow?” Quentin can hear the sound of papers being shuffled. “Does 1 o'clock work for you?”  
“Wow. Uh. Yeah, tomorrow works. 1 o’clock.”  
“Great! See you then.”  
She didn’t even ask for his name. Weird.

The dog walker is a bust.  
Eliot had dropped Margo off at the hospital before parking the rental on Melrose and waited. It was surprisingly easy to find the man who called 911. Apparently he walked his girlfriend's dog every day at around the same time. Just as Eliot had hoped. He may want to stay out of Wilson's as long as possible, but he doesn't want to sit in a rental car in the cold for hours on end.  
Rafe Osuna was the one to dial 911, but only at the behest of the Good Samaritan who stopped him and told him to call about a car accident.  
Still, Eliot told him to stop by the hospital to see Fen and Ted so they could thank him for calling 911. He wasn't the Good Samaritan, but he still helped. It seemed like something they'd want to do. Plus, the first thing Rafe had done when he'd realized that Eliot was asking him about the accident, was ask if the people in the car were okay. That makes him good people in Eliot's book.  
And Rafe gave Eliot a new lead. The Good Samaritan had been wearing a bright red hat and vest.  
“I believe they wear red vest at that grocery store, Reynard's? You should try there. He probably works there. I remember he left in a hurry, as soon as the ambulance left, saying he was late for work.”

When Quentin walks into The Story Never Ends, there’s a woman with long dark hair and tattoos reading a book behind the counter.  
He clears his throat.  
“Afternoon. You need anything?”  
“I’m here for an interview?”  
Understanding passes over her face. “You must be Quentin. I’m Kady.”  
“Nice to meet you.” He clears his throat. “Um. How do you want to do this?”  
“There’s a table towards the back.” She points him in the right direction.  
A voice comes up behind Quentin as he sits down. “Hey Kady, I think the signed copies of Neverwhere are here.”  
“Babe! This is the applicant I was telling you about.” He turns around to introduce himself, holding out a hand to shake.  
“Q!”  
“Julia?” Julia Wicker. God, it’s been a while. They went to school together, back when he lived in Wilsonville. But they haven’t actually seen each other in years, since they were kids.  
“You’re the guy Penny sent over? Wait. Damn, Q! The store’s only been open for a year, but I moved back to Wilsonville after college. I've been here for a while. You should’ve looked me up!”  
“Yeah.” He clears his throat.  
“You all just kind of just dropped off the map for a while there. How are the kids? How’s Arielle?”  
“She died. Almost three years ago now.”  
“Oh my god, Q. I am so sorry.” She steps forward and hugs him again. Quentin lets himself relax. How had he not known she was here? Surely he had come into the bookstore before now? But he hasn't really had a lot of free time. Now that he's thinking about it, he can't remember the last time he actually had the time to finish a book that wasn't Fillory or one of the kids' books.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“Here, as in the store? Or Wilsonville?”  
“Both! How long have you been back in Wilsonville?”  
“We moved here a few months before Arielle-, for a specialist in Indianapolis. And I’m here about a job?” He winces as it came out more like a question than an answer. He clears his throat again. “How about that interview?”  
“Well, Penny only had good things to say about you. Said you’d had a hard time after, you know. But that you still came to work, even with that ass Reynard.”  
“Yeah, we were pretty much going to hire you as long as you showed up. You would’ve had to seriously mess up the interview to not get the job.”  
Seriously? It was that easy? “This is insane.”  
“Not as insane as anyone willing to continue working for Reynard,” Julia tells him bitterly.  
“You sound like you have experience.”  
“Oh, she does. That prick has hit on half the women in this town. He has at least two restraining orders, but because he has money nothing is ever actually done about him.”  
“Wow. And I thought he was a jerk before.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Arielle? I mean, I know we’ve been mostly Facebook and Skype friends since you moved away. But Q, maybe I could’ve helped.”  
They've since  
“I know. I really should’ve. I just-,” he takes a deep breath. “It was hard, when Arielle died. We knew it was coming, but I still had two kids who were suddenly without their mom and they knew why but they couldn’t understand why it had happened and in-laws who blamed me and bosses who tried to be sympathetic to my situation but they still had business to run. I was just. Overwhelmed.” His grip around his now empty coffee cup grows tighter and tighter as he speaks, until his knuckles are white and the paper cup resembles a ball more than a cup.  
Julia places her hand on his. “Well, you’re not alone now. I’m here. And you have Kady. And Penny.”  
Quentin clears his throat. “Speaking of Penny. What’s the story there that he can ask for hiring favors from the local bookstore?”  
“We used to date. And by we, I mean, I used to date Penny, and Kady used to date Penny.” At Quentin’s incredulous look, she snarks at him. “Not at the same time!”  
“Not if you count that one time when we-“ Julia pulls Kady onto the seat next to her and pecks her on the lips to keep her from saying anything else. When she pulls back (still holding her in place) both Kady and Quentin are startled into silence. Quentin stares in shock for a moment before realizing he was being a creepy creeping creeper and he averted his eyes to read the titles off one of the nearest shelf.  
After a few moments, Julia lets Kady go and Kady laughs at her. “I can’t believe you just did that!”  
“What? Element of surprise, bitch. It worked.”  
Quentin clears his throat, still reading the book titles. “Hey, Julia?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Would now be a bad time to mention I had a crush on you when we were kids?”  
Kady just straight up cackles while Julia rolls her eyes and says, “Yes, Q. Now would be a bad time.”  
“Okay. Then I won’t mention it.”  
Julia grabs his crumpled coffee cup and throws it at him, hitting him in the chest before he can even react.  
“You are such an ass, Q.”

Eliot scans Reynard’s as he enters. Where to start?  
The only worker he can see is a vaguely familiar looking blonde man wearing glasses and the store’s blindingly obnoxious red vest. Joey? Jeff? Eliot can make out the name on the vest as he approaches. Josh.  
Now that name rings bells. Josh Hoberman was known for his special brownies and other fun party favors in high school. He and Hoberman hadn’t been close per se, but they knew each other well. Eliot had interacted more with Josh than he had the majority of his peers.  
Josh recognizes him easily. “Eliot Waugh! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? What can I do you for!”  
“Josh Hoberman. Always a pleasure,” Eliot says honestly. Eliot may not think of Josh Hoberman overly fondly, but he’s also one of the few things he didn’t actively hate in Wilsonville. “I’m looking for someone who works here.”  
“Oh?” Hoberman is definitely interested now. Anything to “What’s his name?”  
Eliot sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. He was wearing a bright red hat and was late or absent for work this Monday. I know it’s not a lot to go on, but do you have any idea who he could be?”  
“Sorry, I don’t think I can help. I started Wednesday. I can ask around, but most everyone here wears red beanies.” He gestures towards the registers, where indeed, two of the cashiers are wearing red beanies. “If you have to wear a hat or gloves or anything, it has to be red. Part of the uniform code.”  
This is going to be harder than Eliot thought. “Are you sure?”  
“Nope. But, he could be one of the other seasonal workers. They just let go a bunch of seasonal employees this week. Apparently, management has gotten real strict about people missing work. If he was late at all this week, and I mean at all, chances are the guy you’re looking for was let go.”  
Eliot wiped a hand across his face. He was beginning to get a headache. There was no way he was going to get any info from management about former workers. At least, not without a name. But if he had a name he wouldn’t need a middle man to find him.  
“Wish I could help you more but that’s all I got.” He claps Eliot on the shoulder. “It’s good seeing you, Eliot. You look good.”  
“You too, Hoberman.” He’s not surprised by Hoberman’s chill, but he isn’t surprised by how friendly he is after not speaking to him after over a decade of radio silence.  
Well, Eliot supposes, back to the drawing board.

Margo is back at Wilson’s supervising the few employees they’ve retained for the holidays. Mainly just Todd, but there are a couple of high schoolers who work after school and she wants to put the Fear of Margo into them.  
So, once he gets back after his unsuccessful day of questing for the Good Samaritan, Eliot is on Fen duty. She’s been released, but strictly on bed rest. Doctor’s orders. The plan is to keep her on couch rest while either Margo or Eliot distract her and the other works and/or supervises at Wilson’s or, in Eliot’s case, goes on the hunt for the Good Samaritan.  
“You know,” Eliot says to Fen from the kitchen, “there’s just one thing I don’t get.”  
“Just one thing?”  
“Oh shush, or no pumpkin spice for you.” He brings out two mugs of pumpkin spice tea. Apparently Fen had stockpiled it during October and November and now she had enough to practically last her til spring. “I just have one question: if his name is Coldwater, why is the store called Wilson’s?”  
“Oh! The guy who owned it before was a Wilson. He got married and retired to Florida, last I heard. I think he and Betty still keep in touch. And since the town is Wilsonville, Ted decided to keep the name. Wilson didn’t seem to care about it either way. But I think he was pleased that Ted kept the name.”  
“Are you going to keep the name? Wilson’s?”  
“I think so. People know it. And not just because it’s also the name of the town.”  
“I mean, I don’t exactly remember Wilson’s.”  
“Eliot, my love. That’s because you spent most of high school drunk or high,” she tells him not unkindly.  
“I was fairly close to Hoberman,” Eliot agrees. “He always had the good shit.”  
“He really did, didn’t he?” she says fondly. “I could use the good shit about now.”  
“Is it that bad?”  
She sighs. “No. The meds they gave me are fine. What's left of the pain is just so annoying.”  
“Actually, I ran into him today,” Eliot starts. “Hoberman. He seemed decidedly less high than I remember but just as laid back.”  
“Wow. I didn’t even know he was still in town.”  
“It was at Reynard’s. I was looking for your Good Samaritan.”  
Fen sits up and demands, “Any luck? Does Josh know who he is?”  
Eliot lets out a long sigh and drapes himself on the couch. “No such luck, I’m afraid. He didn’t know anything. He was hired fairly recently. Apparently Reynard instituted some bullshit policies and laid off several workers, mostly seasonal workers, and since he definitely would have been late after helping you and Ted, he would have been one of them. And I can’t exactly ask for information on former employees.”  
Fen groans in frustration. “Why on earth would they fire seasonal workers during the season? If we had seasonal workers, I’d ply them with charm and baked goods until after New Year’s.”  
“I didn’t think to ask. I was too distracted by a sober Josh Hoberman in a Christmas hat of all things.  
“Oh, that is definitely going to bite them in the ass when they realize they don’t have enough workers.”  
“Mm-hm.”  
“Eliot,” Fen starts quietly. “Do you think you’ll find him?”  
“Of course. It might take a hot minute, but I’ll find him. And you and Ted can fawn all over your knight in shining.” At least, he hopes so. Reynard’s was pretty much his only lead. If he hadn't found the dog walker, he never would have even known that the Good Samaritan wasn't actually the person who called 911, or that he worked at Reynard's. But there was nothing to lead him forward./  
Eliot will have to figure something out.

The high that Quentin is on from the new job vanishes Friday morning.  
He'd gotten the kids to school on time and he didn't actually work for another hour, so when he realizes he left his phone at home, he doesn't freak out. He just goes home.  
Alice notices his car in the driveway later than usual and comes over to check on him before she leaves for work.  
It’s nice to know she cares and that he was right that she’d notice if he was home and not at work, however embarrassing it was to tell her about everything that had happened.  
He’s in the middle of telling her everything when there is a knock at the door.  
“Good afternoon, sir. Are you Quentin Coldwater?” When the stranger speaks, he realizes that she’s British. He nods and she holds out an ID badge. “My name is Ms. Newark. I’m with Child Protective Services.”  
“I’m sorry?” Quentin is so confused. What is happening? Why is someone from Child Services visiting him now of all times?  
He can hear movement behind him, then Alice is pushing past Quentin to stand between him and Ms. Newark.  
“Mr. Coldwater, we received a call claiming that your children are being neglected. May I come in to address those claims?”  
“Do you have a warrant?” Alice cuts in before Quentin can answer.  
“No, I don’t. But I’m afraid that I must speak with Mr. Coldwater. And you are-?”  
“Alice! It's okay. Look, right now isn’t a good time. I have to go to work. Can we reschedule?”  
Ms. Newark checks something on her phone. “I was under the impression that you recently became unemployed.”  
“I did, I was. But I found another job. I start today.” He pauses before emphasizing, “My first shift is in twenty minutes.”  
“Oh, well that’s good news! May I ask, what is your new occupation?”  
“I work at a bookstore. And I’m afraid we really have to get going or we’ll both be late.” He asks again, “Can we reschedule?”  
“Of course. I will see you soon, Mr. Coldwater.” She nods to the both of them and takes her leave. Quentin and Alice watch her through the window until she is in her car and out of sight.  
Quentin lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and collapses onto a chair. He puts his face in his hands.  
God. Freaking Child Services. This isn’t exactly their first run-in. Shortly after moving to Wilsonville, someone had called Child Services when Fray and Teddy kept missing school and had mentioned Arielle having bruises, so CPS had made a visit. They found nothing of course, just two kids wanting to stay home or go to the hospital with their sick mother who was on chemo, and thus more prone to bruising.  
It had stressed and scared the already tired family, so Quentin and Arielle had done some research for what to do in that situation. They had never needed to use what they had learned. Until now.  
“Quentin? Are you okay?”  
He takes a deep breath. “Not really, but it’s just going to have to wait. I wasn’t lying when I told her I had to get to work.” He looks at the clock. “My first shift at The Story Never Ends starts in twenty minutes.”

Eliot has a plan. Margo is suspicious.  
“You're not just using this so you don't have to work at Wilson's, are you?”  
Eliot scoffs loudly. “Of course not!” And scoffs again for good measure. They're at Ted's apartment this time, helping Fen by being the ones to take Ted some things from home to make his hospital stay more bearable so Fen doesn't go against doctor's orders.  
“Because if you are and this falls through, I'm leaving you alone with Todd while me and Fen talk.”  
“About what?”  
“Oh, just whatever comes up. Like old relationships.” Low blow. Fen doesn't know about Mike by design. She's in no state to go on a revenge tour with Margo, which is what will happen if she finds out about Mike. And what he did.  
“Bambi. I would never!”  
“You would,” she counters.  
“Yes, fine, of course I would,” he agrees. “But if their Good Samaritan was fired, he must be looking for a job. I'll go around town, find a Hiring sign, and wait to see who shows up and applies.”  
“And where were you thinking of trying first?”  
“Betty's.”  
“Yeah, right. You just want to gorge yourself on cinnamon rolls and good coffee instead of working with Todd.”  
“He is the Usurper,” he tells her solemnly. “But it means I'll be available if you ever need a hand.”  
“And there's coffee.”  
“And there's coffee,” he admits.

Working at the bookstore is a dream. He's working with one of his best friends, and so long as there aren't any customers and he tidies the store, he can read as much as he wants.  
He hasn't taken Julia up on the offer yet, but he can bring Fray and Teddy to work if he needed or wanted to. He'll admit, it's an enticing offer, but he doesn't want to set a precedence.

“Quentin! I heard you're working over at the bookstore now! Good on you, I've got two girls here, Reynard vets. That blowhard sure has an ego on him.” Betty barely let Quentin get a word in.  
“You know, if you ever find yourself needing a second or a part-time job, I know a few places.”  
“Thanks, Betty. But I'm good at The Story Never Ends.”  
“I'm glad! Now, let me guess, one of my sinful cinnamon buns and a coffee?”  
Quentin nods.”  
“They'll be ready tout suite!”  
“Thanks, Betty.”  
As he waits, more people file in for the lunch rush. Apparently everyone in Wilsonville, or maybe just the students now that he's looking, take lunch at the same time.  
One of the, albeit small, crowd steps behind him and spills coffee all the way down his back. Quentin yells at the hot liquid. “Hot, hot, hot! Ow, ow, ow.”  
“Shit, are you okay? Sorry for the spiced latte shower.” The person, a man, dabs at his back with a napkin.  
Quentin gingerly removes his jacket to check the damage. Fuck.  
Quentin suppresses a groan. The back of his jacket is soaked. He can only imagine what his shirt looks like. And on his first day at a new job. Fuck fuck fuck shit.  
He turns to confront the guy. Like, yes, it was an accident, but it’s not a good time, okay?  
Quentin knows him.Where does he know this guy from? He thinks back and realizes. The day he got fired. The guy he thought was-, the guy who was conventionally attractive and who was smoking outside Wilson’s.  
The guy is staring him down.  
Now that he's thinking about it, this guy had had a really weird phone call the day Quentin was fired. Talking about telling her, and looking for something on Melrose. Remembers how he could feel him watching him.  
And the next day Quentin gets a weird call from Claire. Then the visit for CPS today. It could be coincidence.  
But what are the chances?  
“What’s your problem?”  
The guy looks taken aback. What? Didn’t expect he’d bite back?  
“What’s your problem? It was an accident.”  
“Sure it was. Just like it was an accident that you were on Melrose. Or  
“What? How do you know I was on Melrose?”  
“So you admit it.”  
“What am I admitting? You know, forget it. Sorry for spilling my coffee on you.” The man leaves. Good riddance.  
Quentin stomps out of Betty’s, not even bothering to pick up his order. He calms down by the time he reaches The Story Never Ends, but he’s still in a bad mood.

After that, his day is relatively uneventful. Kady and Julia managed to find a jacket and a t-shirt that someone had, somehow, left in the store.  
After the disaster of a morning, it was good to do something he loved- be surrounded by books. Help people buy books. Tell people about books. The only way it would be better is if he was writing again. But. Pipe dream, right?

When Ted is finally released from the hospital, Fen and Margo send Eliot to drive him home.  
“You all set?” he asks as Ted is wheeled out to the entrance.  
“All good.”  
Once they’ve helped him into the car, the nurse says, “Hold on a moment! We still have your things from when you were brought in.”  
“Why weren’t they returned before now?” Eliot asks incredulously. They’ve just had Ted’s things this whole time?  
“There was a bit of a mixup. But here they are now.” She hands Ted a thick winter coat and a set of car keys.  
“This isn’t m-” Ted starts, but the nurse has already left.  
“There a problem?”  
“This isn’t mine. I think it belongs to him.”  
“Your Good Samaritan?” This could be promising. There could be something that could tell Eliot how to find him.  
“I remember, he laid it over Fen. She hadn’t been wearing hers in the car. She was shivering. He gave her his own coat.”  
He literally gave Fen the coat off his back? Okay, Eliot seriously needs to find this guy.  
“Do the keys have a button? Car alarm, lock, unlock, etcetera?” They could drive down main street. There’s a good chance with the holidays coming up that his car would be there and would go off when they hit the alarm.  
“No luck there. Nothing personal on the keychain, either. Must be a spare set.”  
“Damn. Back to square one.” Again.

Eliot is back working in Wilson's. Margo and Fen are at Ted's place, helping him settle back in at home. And because his plan failed and he lost the bet with Margo, he has to actually interact with customers instead of letting Todd do it. Margo had persuaded Todd to go do busy-work in the office anytime a customer came in while Eliot is working. And Todd, being Todd, listened.  
And so Eliot finds himself behind the counter, trying to find his happy place. Remember, this is for Fen. This is for Fen. This is-  
His phone is ringing again.  
It's not Mike, but a number that Eliot has never quite forgotten. His mother.  
He’s received dozens of texts already from her, asking what he’s doing back. If he’ll be staying. If he'll stop by to see them. If he'll meet to talk.  
Eliot closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. He so doesn’t need this kind of stress. He was only here to help a friend. He won’t be staying. He won’t have to deal with this forever, just until Fen gets her feet back under her. Just until New Year’s, then he can walk away again. This is for Fen.  
He opens his eyes when he hears the little bell above the door just in time to see two kids walking in. He puts on the Perfect Eliot Waugh charm and says with a smile that he doesn’t have to force as much as usual, “Welcome to Wilson’s! Do you two need any help finding anything?”  
“No thank you,” the boy says, already wandering off towards the train sets and model planes.  
Eliot turns to the girl. “How about you? Looking for something in particular?”  
“Not really. We’re just looking while our dad is just next door.” She stops examining the shelf of Christmas wreaths to pin a glare at Eliot. “And he is just next door and he’ll be here any minute. So, don’t get any ideas.”  
Eliot raises his hands in surrender. “You won’t have any trouble from me.”  
She resumes her study of the Christmas decorations.  
“Just let me know if you need anything.” Eliot turns again towards the counter, keeping an eye on the boy who is now shaking a model plane kit box. Eliot winces. He didn’t know much about model planes, but he figures the sight would give Ted heart palpitations.  
“Do you have any sports stuff?”  
Eliot sighs inwardly, turning back to the girl. ‘Sports stuff.’ And of course Fen was at Ted's so he can’t direct the kid to her or ask for her help. But he doesn’t let his Customer Service Smile falter.  
“Of course! Sports equipment, just this way.” He directs her over to the wall covered with sports memorabilia and equipment. Mostly football gear, but there’s baseball, soccer, tennis, even badminton.  
The girl criticizes the contents of the shelves with sharp eyes.  
“See anything you like?”  
She shakes her head. “Do you have anything I can play by myself? Inside the house, without breaking stuff?”  
“Well,” Eliot begins. “That rules out baseballs, softballs, and most major sports that I know of, like soccer. How about a foam football? Or there’s always tennis. Badminton.”  
“Wouldn’t I need to someone to throw it to? Those aren’t really solitary activities.” She says solitary like she’s trying to impress him. Or intimidate him. She’s a hard read. He's so not used to children.  
Eliot has no idea. Probably. “Good point.” He scans the shelves. He spots something small, colorful, and decidedly doesn't belong in the sports section. But it’s perfect.  
“This is a footbag,” Eliot declares, holding it up.  
She doesn't sound at all confident in his intelligence when she tells him, “That’s a hackysack.”  
“Also called a hackysack,” he agrees.  
“Hackysack isn't a sport.”  
“Not exactly, no. But I know one former soccer player who used hackysacks for fun and for training, for balance and control.”  
“Why not just use a soccer ball?”  
“Well, you said you wanted something you could use indoors. You kick a soccer ball, you could hit something, it breaks. A hackysack? You’d really have to put some effort into it if you wanted to break something.” He makes a show of stuffing it into his pocket and taking it back out again. “Plus, you can take it pretty much anywhere. I’d advise against using it everywhere, but it’s definitely more portable than a soccer ball.”  
He tosses the hackysack into the air and catches it on the top of his foot. “You can use it alone or with friends.” He kicks it back up, but just misses catching it on his bent elbow. It plops onto the ground. “I guess I’m out of practice,” he laughs. “You want to give it a try?”  
The kid doesn't move to pick up the hackysack. “I don’t really have friends.”  
“Like I said, you can use just fine with yourself.”  
“Okay.” She picks it up gingerly. “Your soccer player friend, did he teach you how to play hackysack?”  
“She did, in fact. I was terrible at sports, but I helped her practice. With the hackysack, and by being a spectacularly bad goalie.”  
“How bad could you be? You're good with the hackysack.”  
“Well, I made my gym teacher want to curse, which is bad form for a public school teacher, so he started to call me Heck.”  
“Heck isn't a bad word,” she says slowly.  
“Not so much, but it's better than hell which is, well, not a lot worse, but it rhymes with El.”  
“El?”  
“My name's Eliot. My soccer friend, her name is Fen, she used to call me El.”  
“I'm Fray.” She sticks out her hand. When he shakes it, she asks, “Can I still call you Heck?”  
“Only if you buy the footbag.”  
“It's a hackysack, but I'll buy it anyway.”  
He rings her up.  
Fray and her brother, trailing behind her, leave.  
Eliot waves through the window as they pass. They wave back.  
It’s strange, to interact with someone in Wilsonville who has no idea who he is. Fray is certainly a fearful precocious child, but it felt good to be able to help her find what she needed.

“Dad, you should see what Fray bought at Wilson's!”  
“That's the store across from the bakery, right?”  
“You remember Wilson's, used to be owned by Marshall Wilson? He used to give out free candy canes and peppermints with every purchase around Christmas time,” Julia reminds him.  
“Yeah. I forgot about that! Actually made me-” Actually made Quentin like Christmas for a change.  
Julia continues as if he hadn't spoken and cut himself off so abruptly. “Marshall Wilson sold the store and moved to Florida, last I heard. Now it's run by Fen Dint.”  
“Who?”  
“Fiona Dint? Come on, you remember her! Her parents ran that store for hunters.” Quentin does remember. That place was creepy as fuck. And Fiona, Fen, was a little scary. Not as scary as her dad, but still intimidating to preteen Quentin. “When they moved, they sold the store. And Fen went to work at Wilson's for Marshall. And then he retired, and gave her the store.”  
“I know Fen,” Fray cuts in. “She used to play soccer and she's friends with Heck.”  
“Who or what is a Heck?”  
Julia laughs. “Are you talking about Eliot?” Fray nods.  
Julia explains, “Eliot was this guy in school. He sucked at sports, or purposely failed at sports to piss his dad off, it's unclear, and the gym teacher hated him. The coach, most of the athletes, all called him Heck.”  
“Heck told me his teacher wanted to curse at him, but called him Heck instead and that's how it started.”  
“Yeah, that's pretty much how it went. But how did you meet him? I didn't know he was in town.”  
“He works at Wilson's. He sold me this,” she tells them, holding out the hackysack.  
“A hackysack?”  
“Yeah, except he kept calling it a footbag. But he said since I bought it, I can keep calling him Heck.”  
“He sounds like a cool guy,” Quentin tells her. “I'll have to meet him sometime.”

The visit from Ms. Newark is largely uneventful. The kids show her their rooms. She asks about their grades, hobbies, and so on. Afterwards, she and Quentin settle into the living room, where she all but interrogates him. It's not unexpected, but Quentin finds himself trying to keep from getting defensive. All the while, Ms. Newark writes notes on a little blue notepad.  
“How long are Freya and Theodore home alone in the afternoons?”  
“Fray and Teddy,” he corrects out of habit. “When they have school, they go to the library’s after-school program and I usually pick them up around 5. Or if I have late shift, my neighbor, you met her, she brings them home.” She nods in acknowledgment before scribbling something in her notepad.  
“She picks them up from the library? Is that convenient for her work hours? How long of a commute is it?”  
“No, she works there. At the library, I mean.” She hums in understanding. Another scribble on the notepad.  
“And what do you do when school isn’t in session?”  
“I can usually get a babysitter, but if I can’t, Alice watches them in the mornings or takes them with her to the library.” He doesn’t tell her that Alice won’t be available soon. He hopes that won’t be a problem. Julia said he could have the kids at work, but he doesn’t think Ms. Newark would approve.  
“Mr. Coldwater, you don’t have to be so nervous. These questions are just a formality.” She checks something off on her notepad.  
“Indiana goes by a case-by-case basis on children staying home alone. As you said, your neighbor is available in emergencies. And Freya, apologies, Fray, is, quite frankly, old enough to start her own babysitting career if they were inclined to do so and both of your children seem responsible enough to stay home alone in small doses.” She snaps her notebook closed with a cheerful smile and announces, “I haven't completed my report, but I see no problem here. I believe I'm done here for now.”  
Quentin releases some of the tension in his body. “Thank you.”  
Ms. Newark pauses in the door. She doesn’t quite meet Quentin’s eyes when she tells him, “However, I would be prepared, in case any interested parties try to sue or petition the court for custody.”  
Quentin’s heart drops. “You think there are interested parties who will?” If Claire does, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. He can’t afford a lawyer and he may have a job now, but his track record hasn’t been great and he knows how that will look. A single father with a history of depression and a series of part-time jobs, who can't hold down those jobs, versus a stable, healthy retired housewife.  
“If anyone does attempt to sue or petition the court, there will be little for them to stand on. Though at the very least, there is the grandparents’ right to visitation. But the courts more often than not rule in favor of children staying with the parents and it is especially difficult for grandparents to gain custody if the children aren’t already living with them.” So she thinks Claire might be involved in this. “But it would be difficult all the same.” She stares into his eyes. A shiver goes down his spine. “For all involved, Mr. Coldwater.”  
“What happens now?”  
“I file my report.”  
“But what happens, for me and the kids?”  
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I'm afraid I don't know.”  
“Thanks anyways, Ms. Newark.”  
“Please, call me Eliza.”  
“Right, sorry. Thank you. Eliza?” Is he really allowed to call her by her first name? When she still calls him Mr. Coldwater?  
She stops again in the doorway. She has a strange look on her face when she asks, “Quentin Coldwater, do you believe in miracles?”  
“What?” he says dumbfounded.  
“I believe you'll find, Mr. Coldwater, that miracles can happen when you least expect them, particularly this time of year.” And with that confusing message, she finally departs.  
Quentin lets loose a shudder when she's gone There is something odd about that woman. He's already called CPS about her, to check that she was who she said she was, so he knows she's legit. But there is something odd about that woman. It makes him feel as if he had something to hide that he doesn't know about, but she does.  
He leaves the kids with Alice and heads to work. Thank goodness that's over, for now. Now he can focus.

Of fucking course the car stalls in the middle of Main Street. He’s had a good run, new job, the CPS visit okay...ish, things are finally looking up, when this shit happens. At least he’s not far from the store. And he knows Julia won't fire him the first time he's late. She'd even told him to come in whenever he could today, knowing about the scheduled visit with CPS.  
He gets the car to start long enough to park it outside Wilson’s. He’s got the hood up and is checking the engine when He appears.  
In his expensive, tailored outfit, the fancy vest that probably costs more than what Quentin makes in a month. Like, who does he even think he was?  
Quentin resolves himself to just ignore him entirely. He is just going to pretend that he isn’t there.  
The man steps in front of him, blocking his way. “Fancy meeting you here,” the man says with a smile. The pretentious prick. “Car troubles?”  
“Yes,” Quentin answers curtly.  
“Need some help?”  
“Nope. Good, thanks.”  
The guy doesn’t seem to get it, because of instead of leaving he gets closer and looks under the hood with him.  
“I’m fine.” Can't this guy take a hint? “Really!”  
“Look, you get in, and I’ll look at it.”  
“No, now go!”  
The man is obviously taken aback at that. “O-kay? Look, I get it's probably a bad day or something, but I'm pretty sure you ran out of gas.”  
“What? No, I checked. It said I still had a quarter of a tank left.”  
“If you say so. I can't be sure until you get in and start the car.”  
Quentin huffs. Fine! He'll do it. If it'll get him to leave Quentin alone. He turns the key until the man tells him to stop.  
“You, dear stranger, have a faulty gauge,” he declares. “You're out of gas.”  
Great. “Great. Well, I have to get to work so it'll have to wait.”  
“Glad to be of help,” the man says pointedly.  
“Thank you,” Quentin grits out before stomping away. What? It's icy and has nothing to do with his feeling about the man behind him.  
“You're welcome!” the man calls.

“I saw him again!”  
“Who?” Kady asks from the office.  
Julia answers before Quentin can. “Hot Stalker Guy.  
“Is he cute?”  
“Yes! Wait, what?” He shakes his head. “That’s not the point!”  
“But you do think he’s cute.”  
“He’s not... unattractive. But he’s a pretentious prick who may or may not be involved in my mother-in-law’s plot to take my kids.”  
“She’s not going to take your kids. You don’t know that that’s what she’s even going for.”  
He ignores that. He can’t think about it right now.  
“And if he’s just a pretentious prick who isn’t involved with all this, you’d bang that?”  
“No! I don’t know, maybe!”  
Julia takes a sip of coffee from Kady’s cup while she’s busy tormenting Quentin.  
“You’re distracting me!”  
“Is it working?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you feel better?”  
“A little.”  
“Here, have some of Julia’s crappy tea.”  
“I heard that.”  
“I know you heard that. Now shush so I can give the man some crappy tea.  
“Thanks.” He sips his tea. “This tea is truly terrible.”  
“I know, right? I think something went wrong with her taste buds.”  
“I’m sorry for going off like that.”  
“No worries. You just had to let off some steam. I get it.”  
“But still-“  
“You’re Julia’s friend and you’re in a bad situation. I wanted to help so I helped.” Kady shoves a broom and a feather duster into his hands. “Now go tidy the store.”

Sunday, Julia and Kady come over for lunch and stay til dinner.  
The bookstore is closed, one of the benefits of working in a small town. Julia says it just isn’t worth it to keep the store open Sundays. Most people don’t go shopping for books after church.  
They’re just putting the dirty dishes from lunch away when the lights flicker. Quentin holds his breath. The lights come back on and he relaxes. Then they go off, and stay off.  
“Dad?” Fray calls, a tremor in her voice. “What’s going on?”  
Shit. Shit. Shit. “Just the electricity. It’s okay.” It’s not okay.  
“Q, the whole block is out,” Julia tells him from the window.  
Okay. Maybe it is okay. The power’s still out during winter, but at least it isn’t the house’s electrical system that’s the problem.  
“I’ll call the power company. See how long it’ll be out.” He dials the number and is immediately put on hold.  
Kady pulls out her phone too. “I’m going to call our neighbors, see if we’re affected.” She heads outside to the porch to watch the block and make the call.  
Julia rounds up the kids. “Teddy, Fray, let’s go around and unplug all the non-essentials.”  
“Why?” Teddy asks.  
“We won’t have to worry about anything overloading when the power comes back on.”  
Fray asks, “Does that actually work?”  
“No idea, but it’s we always did at my house and it never hurt anything.”  
Quentin hears their voices fade as they disappear further into the house.  
When he finally gets through to a real person, all they can tell him is that they have a crew working on it but the weather is getting worse and they’re having trouble so it could be a few hours at least. Great.

The power comes back on after dinner.  
Kady and the kids have fallen asleep on the couch streaming Disney movies on her phone, so Julia and Quentin move to the kitchen. He gives Julia his phone so she can take pictures of them sleeping and so she can look at the photos of the kids being all cute while Quentin checks that everything came back on okay.  
“What’s this?” Julia calls.  
“What’s what?” He’s fully expecting it to be a picture of something outrageous like the series of traps Arielle had made Quentin set up around their vegetable garden to keep the squirrels out, or one of Teddy’s Halloween costumes that are less fully formed ideas and more a mismatch of Halloween masks, hats, capes, and gloves that he finds in their Halloween bin. He’s prepared to launch into a long-winded explanation about Ari’s war with the squirrels or Teddy’s artistic endeavors when he actually sees the photo she’s asking about.  
It’s the picture he took of Stalker Guy, the day he came into Betty’s after Quentin.  
He blushes, part anger at the prick and part embarrassment. He can’t imagine what this looks like.  
“That’s just this guy who’s been following me around town.” He sighs. “It’s a long story.”  
“Eliot Waugh is Hot Stalker Guy?”  
“You know him?” Quentin honestly thought he was some guy from the city, sent to stalk him. But if Julia knows him...  
“Yeah. That’s definitely Eliot Waugh. We went to high school together. He was in the grade above me.”  
“You’re telling me this guy is from Wilsonville?”  
“Yeah. I mean, he hasn’t been back in forever.” She pushes her hair behind her ear as she tries to think back. “He was gone after he graduated. There were a lot of rumors, about that family.”  
“What kind of rumors?”  
“I don’t really like to listen to gossip around here, it’s never as interesting as they make it seem,” Julia says. “But, there was talk that Mr. Waugh was heavy-handed when it came to raising his sons, especially Eliot. And Eliot left after he graduated and seems to have cut ties with his whole family.”  
“Where did he leave to? I mean, he’s back now but where did he go?”  
“I don’t know. New York maybe? Or California. Somewhere liberal and far away from here, going by his Facebook. We didn’t exactly run in the same circles. He wasn’t close to a lot of people except his girlfriend and his drug dealer.”  
“I’m sorry, his what?”  
“Josh Hoberman. He was everybody’s dealer, but he wasn’t exactly a drug dealer. He didn’t sell drugs, he just,” she sips her cider, trying to find the right words. “He just shared the good shit, sometimes.”  
Quentin’s shoulders begin to shake. He bites his lip but can’t help it, a laugh bursts out. Julia jumps and stares at him wide-eyed before she snorts and they both laugh so hard.  
They hear a loud yawn before Teddy asks from the couch, sleep in his voice, “Dad? What’s so funny?”  
“Nothing, Teddy. Go back to sleep,” Quentin calls back before meeting Julia’s eyes again and they both have to choke back laughter.  
But they’ve woken up Kady, who offers to take the kids upstairs and get them in to bed proper, with a promise to tell her everything when she’s back. She wakes Fray and herds her and Teddy upstairs.  
After they’ve all gone upstairs, Julia turns back to Quentin. “That’s it. You’re telling me everything.”  
Julia and Quentin settle back in the kitchen with a pair of mugs filled with warm apple cider, with a bit of ginger and rum that Julia and Kady had gifted him. The situation called for it.  
“I thought he was stalking me!” How else would you explain the weird phone call he’d overheard, him being everywhere in Wilsonville pretty much every time Quentin turned around. Or maybe he was just going around his hometown like a normal person.  
“You thought Eliot Waugh was stalking you?” Julia squints at him, assessing him. “I know he’s gay, and you’re cute, but I wouldn’t think you were his type.”  
“His type? Wait, he’s gay? You said he had a girlfriend!” Quentin would steadfastly refuse to admit that he squeaked out his questions. He’s surprised, dammit. “You think I’m cute?”  
“You had Arielle,” she points out, ignoring his comment. “But he’s not bi, it was more of a closeted situation. At least, I don’t think he’s bi. Fen was the only girl he hung out with in school.”  
Quentin clears his throat. “So, what, she was his beard?”  
“Pretty much. They were always close, but once they were in high school they started going out. Or started pretending to go out. Or something like that. Apparently the truth all came out at graduation.”  
“Apparently?”  
“I wasn’t there. He was the year ahead of us, and I didn’t really hang out with anyone in that grade. I heard about most of it from my mom. Some of her friends had kids in the same grade who were at the graduation ceremony. She told me all of the ‘hot goss.’” She swallows the rest of the spiked cider in her mug in one go.  
“Before the ceremony. Mr. Waugh, Eliot’s father, and Mr. and Mrs. Dint, Fen’s parents, got into some kind of argument about Eliot. No one really knows what it was about, I don’t think. But Fen came out.”  
“No way! Really? How’d that turn out?”  
“Her dad took it well. He’d never really like Eliot, so he was probably relieved that they were just friends. I saw him wearing a rainbow pin around town for a while after. But apparently Eliot’s dad started freaking out, and insulted Fen and her parents, called them what you’d expect from an ignorant, sexist homophobe like Mr. Waugh.” Quentin can imagine. He’d heard plenty himself in high school. And that was in a big city in New Jersey.  
“So Eliot came out. Loudly.”  
“Whoa.”  
She nods in agreement. “Mr. Waugh was pissed. He and Eliot started yelling, then they both stormed out. The next thing anyone knew, Eliot had left town and the Waughs started shopping the next town over. Now, Mrs. Waugh and Eliot’s older brothers come through Wilsonville every once in a while, but I can’t remember the last time I saw Eliot’s dad in town.”  
“That’s. Wow.” Well it seems that Quentin’s been wrong about Eliot Waugh. It’s a lot to think about. An apology is definitely a thing that needs to happen. That should be fun.  
“I see how it is, you guys have all the fun while I’m stuck with the munchkins,” Kady says when she comes back down.  
“I put them in your room and told them a story about pirates and evil librarians. They really ate it up. You’ve got good kids,” she tells Quentin as she sits down. She helps herself to the cider and rum.  
“I know.” He doesn’t deserve them. Not the kids, not Julia and Kady, Alice, Betty, any of them. “I’m very blessed.”  
“Wow,” Julia says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say you’re anything but cursed.”  
“Well. It’s almost Christmas. Most wonderful time of the year, right?”  
“Yeah, God bless us, every one,” Kady says with mock solemnity, raising her mug.  
It doesn’t last long. They all burst into quiet giggles.

Now that he knows that Eliot isn’t the creep he thought he was, Quentin finds himself dreading picking up the coffee from Betty’s on his lunch break, not because of Eliot, but because of how he's acted.

Quentin clears his throat.  
Stalker Guy, Eliot, turns and raises his arms in surrender. “I swear, I'm just here for the cinnamon rolls and coffee. No one has to get hurt.”  
Quentin winces. He deserves that. “I, uh. Might owe you an apology.”  
“Might?” Eliot raises an eyebrow.  
“I definitely owe you an apology. I'm sorry. I was wrong about you. I thought you were someone else, and I seriously misjudged and mistreated you.”  
“You thought I was someone else?”  
“Yeah, it's a whole thing. My kids' grandmother wants custody of my kids. And there were so many coincidences that seemed suspect, so.”  
“You thought I was involved.”  
Quentin winces again. “Yeah.  
“Apology accepted. Now, how about a do-over? We can start over.”  
“Start over?” Quentin repeats, skeptical. Just like that?  
“Hi, I'm Eliot. I haven't lived in Wilsonville in nearly a decade. I'm back in Wilsonville and working at Wilson's over the holidays as a favor for a friend. I come to Betty's Bakery because it has the only decent coffee in town that I don't have to make myself.”  
Quentin clears his throat again. “Hello, I'm Quentin. I, uh, I often jump to conclusions and think the worst about things but I'm trying to be better about that. I have two kids and I work at the bookstore over on First Street. I stop by Betty's on my lunch break for coffee and the cinnamon rolls with the gooey icing.”  
“Ooo, that's the good stuff.” Eliot holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Quentin.”  
“Nice to meet you, too. Eliot.” And he means it. And he definitely isn't charmed by Eliot's smile and offered hand. Nope. Not even a little bit.

Eliot must have similar hours at Wilson’s, because after that they’re often there at the same time.

“He has kids,” Eliot despairs later to Margo. They are checking sale prices and restocking shelves. Another favor to Fen, who kept napping in the office, and Ted, who kept hobbling around on his crutches up and down the aisles to try and do the work himself. They had dropped the two of them off at Betty’s to eat and gossip with some of Fen's friends who worked there. Eliot and Margo hoped to get as much done before Ted could make his way back and try to do more work.  
“You’ve said.” Margo is doing nothing to hide her being half-annoyance, half-entertained at Eliot’s misfortune. So rude. If Eliot wasn’t busy freaking out over the situation, he’d have something to say about that. Probably.  
He stands up straight and clears his throat. “I do not fall for straight guys with kids,” he declares to the empty store, trying to regain some semblance of cool indifference. Neither his tone nor his outward appearance betray how little he believes the words.  
Margo knows him too well and gives him a look. It was one that said ‘Cut the bullshit. I know you secretly have Feelings about Things.’  
But out loud all she says is, “Apparently you do.”

“I'm heading over to Betty’s for coffee. You guys want anything?”  
“No!” Eliot cries. Todd and Margo stare at him, Todd in shock and Margo with amusement. “I can get it. In fact, I’d love the chance to get some fresh air and get away from, ugh, sports equipment.” Eliot hears what sounds suspiciously like a laugh disguised as a cough from the office where Ted  
“Yeah, I bet. You just love getting coffee, don’t you Eliot?”  
“Yup. I love coffee. Coffee love me.” He clears his throat and resolutely does not look at Margo. “I'll just be going now. For coffee.”

“What’s that?” Eliot nods at the journal. Quentin had found it when he was looking for the locket. He knew Fen had it the morning he was fired from Reynard's and the chain broke, and he's pretty sure he had it in the car, but beyond that he can't remember and he’s still looking.  
“This, uh. My mom gave this to me. Before she died, I mean.”  
“Oh.”  
“I won a writing contest at school. Well, it was less of a contest and more ‘we graded everyone’s essays for the mandatory state tests and Quentin’s was Above Average so he gets a ribbon!’”  
“Impressive.”  
Quentin laughs. “I know, right?” His mom had been so proud. He can’t even remember what he'd written about, but his teacher had suggested that he send it to some literary journals that published teenagers’ writing. His mom had suggested that he send a copy to his dad. He did send a copy, but only to a literary journal.  
It was published, and with that encouragement, he really got into writing. So his mother bought him a journal. She died about a month after.  
“So what’s in the journal? If that’s not too personal.”  
“Just stories. Poems. You know, just teenage writer things.”  
“Can I see?” Eliot suddenly waves his hands in front of him. “No, that’s definitely too personal. Forget I asked.”  
“You can look. If you really want to.”  
Quentin hands him the journal. As Eliot takes it, studying the cover, he realizes that he’s maybe a little embarrassed by it. The cover is blue, with the words “Follow Your Dreams” and a compass rose etched into the front. Some inspirational, motivational thing that his mom had always been into. He’d grown attached to the journal after she died, it had actually reminded him of her locket. Like they had a matching set. But it was still a little embarrassing.  
And just as Eliot opens the front cover, Quentin remembers writing his go-to pen name idea Quentin Makepeace over and over again on the inside cover in cursive and block writing, practicing his signature for if he ever became a Famous Writer. He’s just glad he never wrote about crushes in the journal. He never wrote about his own life, just the lives of people in fantasy worlds. Witches, sorcerers, fairies, and so on.  
“How very Chronicles of Narnia.” Looks like Eliot found his Fillory fanfiction. Quentin blushes further.  
“But with less Jesus lions.”  
Eliot actually snorts at that. Then looks appalled at himself. Quentin can’t help it. He laughs.  
“Come at me-” He pauses and looks back at the inside cover before he continues, “Makepeace.”  
Quentin claps his hands slowly. “Oh, very clever comeback.”  
“So, you’re a writer?”  
Quentin huffs out a laugh. “I wish. But I used to write in high school and college. Mostly fantasy: elves, wizards, etcetera. And before we moved here I worked at a publishing company.”  
Eliot hides a smile behind his coffee. Of course this cute, awkward little man was a fantasy nerd. “You didn’t try to make a career of it? Get published yourself?”  
“Sort of. My creative writing teacher in high school encouraged me to send some of my work to a literary journal, and they actually published one of my short stories in one of their issues. I remember my mom, she bought that issue, had my story framed, and displayed it in the living room.” He laughs, “It was so embarrassing.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smoke.” Quentin's face reddens slightly, like he hadn't meant to say anything. “I just-, the first time I saw you, you were on the phone and you were smoking. But I haven’t seen you smoke since. Sorry, I just couldn’t think of anything else.”  
Aww. Quentin remembers the first time he saw him? Be strong, Eliot. Remember: you do not fall for straight guys with kids. You should not fall for straight guys with kids. You will not fall for straight guys with kids.  
“I don’t smoke.” Quentin furrows his brow at him. It’s kind of cute. Eliot thinks he likes being one of the things that Quentin puzzles over. Do not fall for straight guys with kids, he tells himself. “That is to say, I don’t smoke anymore. I quit over a year ago. I haven’t tasted the sweet taste of nicotine since last year.”  
“Except for the day I saw you.”  
“Except for that day,” Eliot admits. It had been a moment of weakness. Just before they got to town, Margo and Eliot had stopped for gas. Truthfully, they were both getting hungry and a tad ill-tempered about the long drive and Eliot had gone into the gas station for something, anything for them to eat. Eliot had grabbed some snacks and flavored waters at random and was paying at the counter when his eyes drifted over to the cigarettes. He bought a pack on a whim, the weight of them in his inside coat pocket tempting him with every step further into Wilsonville.  
“That’s great, that you were able to quit.” Quentin’s voice cuts through Eliot’s thoughts. He looks at him to see that he’s smiling at him. “Addiction is-. It’s hard to deal with.”  
“Do you smoke?”  
“No. My mom. She smoked practically nonstop, a pack a day smoker for a while. When she tried, she was able to cut down, but she never managed to actually quit.”  
All in the past tense. “Did she…?” Eliot cuts himself off. Stupid question, Waugh. He's already told you she died sometime after giving him the journal.  
“She died in a car wreck when I was 14. I ended up staying with Julia and her family for a few weeks before I could move in with my grandparents in New York.”  
“So. What made you quit smoking? Actually, nevermind. That was probably rude and inconsiderate of me to ask. Just forget it.”  
Eliot clears his throat. Might as well. “Rehab. I got into a lot of, let’s say illicit substances in college and I didn’t really stop. I was an addict, but a successful one. I had a good job and I was great at it. Most people couldn’t even tell when I was high. Except for Margo. And some other people.” Mike. Eliot clears his throat again. “Anyway. Bambi dragged me to rehab, I got my life together, and I started smoking to sort of even things out.”  
“And rehab has to do with you quitting smoking?”  
“My ex didn’t like the smell of smoke on my clothes so I quit.” Of course, Mike hadn’t said anything about Eliot or Eliot’s health during his various escapades with drug and drink, but god forbid Mike have to smell smoke on his clothes. It was the beginning of the end with Mike. By the time he quit smoking, Mike was already dating one of their co-workers and helping them steal money from the company. And setting Eliot up for the blame.

Quentin really should have realized sooner that he was spending so much time at Betty’s every day, just talking with Eliot.  
“You know, lunch hour is supposed to be an hour,” Julia tells him one day when he comes back with a bag of Betty’s best cinnamon rolls and an excuse for being late back.  
“Shit. Sorry, Julia, it won’t happen again.”  
“No, it'll definitely happen again. I’m just wondering what’s got you coming from Betty’s with such a big smile on your face.” She gasps loudly, which catched Kady’s attention. “Could it be? You saw Hot Stalker Eliot?”  
“You talked to Betty,” Quentin accuses.  
“Betty called because she wanted to know if we wanted anything for when you managed to part from your lover boy.”  
“He’s not my, Eliot’s not mine.”  
Kady chimes in, “But he could be.”  
He drops the bag of baked goods on the counter. “I quit.”  
They just laugh at him.

On one of those days spent too long talking and drinking coffee with Eliot during his lunch break, something unexpected happens as they’re leaving Betty’s establishment.  
“Oh no,” Eliot says.  
Quentin turns to see what’s caught his attention. All he sees is an older woman with curly dark hair. Hair that looks vaguely reminiscent to the man’s beside him.  
“Eliot!” the woman looks as surprised to see Eliot as he is to see her.  
“Oh look, it’s Father Knows Best.”  
Her eyes widen before they turn sharp and her look of surprise turns cold at Eliot’s words.  
“Eliot! Don’t be so rude,” the woman scolds.  
“My sincere apologies,” Eliot tells her, voice positively dripping with sarcasm. What was going on? Quentin’s never seen him like this. Even when Quentin accused him of literal crimes, Eliot was never so antagonistic. “Let me introduce you to Rachel Waugh. My mother.”  
The woman, Eliot’s mother, doesn’t wait for Quentin to be introduced. In fact, she seems to be ignoring Quentin’s presence entirely. “Eliot. Why do you have to be so stubborn?”  
“Sadly, it appears to be genetic.”  
“Eliot!” Rachel Waugh takes a deep breath to calm herself. “Eliot, why don’t you come home and we can have a talk.” She looks at Quentin then and glances between the two of them, eyes narrowing.  
“Actually, we simply must be going. Things to see, people to do. You understand.” He turns away from her and makes a show of asking Quentin, “Q, dear, why don’t we make our leave?” before grasping Quentin arm at the elbow and marching them away from his mother. Quentin quickens his pace to match his long strides.

They just stop until they’ve turned the corner and are out of sight.  
Eliot sighs and wipes a hand across his face. “Sorry about that.”  
“Are you okay?”  
“What?”  
“Are. You. Okay?”  
“Of course. I’ve never been so okay in my life,” Eliot glibs. He has his hands stuffed into his pockets and leans nonchalantly next to the door of the pharmacy.  
Quentin wonders at his ever thinking that Eliot was out to get him. Eliot’s mask is too obvious, his tells too easy to tell.  
“Come on, El.”  
Eliot lets out a long breath through his nose. “Fine. I may not be entirely okay with what just happened.”  
“What was all that about?”  
“I told you about my ex?” Quentin nods. He remembers. Mike, the ex who didn’t care when it mattered and, reading between the lines, who betrayed and broke Eliot's heart. “Well what I didn’t tell you is that after that total disaster, I went on a drunken bender and called my parents.”  
Ouch. “So they know all about it.”  
“Exactly so.” “And now they’re under the impression that because I’m back here, that I’ve seen the error in my ways. Like the fucking Prodigal Son, who by the way received a far better homecoming than I have or ever will.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
Eliot waves him off. “No, I’m sorry. Sorry that you had to see all that. And that I let her think that we were, you know, Together.”  
“Oh.” Quentin feels his cheeks warm. He clears his throat, bracing himself. It’s time to take the plunge. “I didn’t mind. That is to say, I wouldn’t mind. If people thought that.”  
“You wouldn’t...?” Now Eliot is blushing. Then he’s smiling, a crooked grin. Quentin is glad to see him smiling again, even if under such embarrassing circumstances. “Are you asking me out?”  
“Is that so surprising?” Quentin keeps his voice steady, but it cracks at the end. So much for playing at confidence.  
“A little. You said you had a wife.”  
“And in high school I had a boyfriend,” Quentin tells him. Then he realizes what Eliot said. “Only a little surprising? You thought I was straight!”  
Eliot scoffs. “Even straight, who could resist all this? I wouldn’t mind either. Just for the record.”  
Quentin laughs. The teasing isn’t so bad when it’s Eliot. Who will never, ever meet Julia and Kady if Quentin has anything to say about it.  
He clears his throat. “Do you want to get dinner sometime? Tonight? Or are we counting the coffee dates as actual dates now?” There. He’s taking initiative. Putting himself out there.  
“Why not both?” Eliot looks at his phone. “How about we meet up tonight at Betty’s at 7? We can walk to the Italian place just off Main Street.”  
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds. Good.” He clears his throat again. “I have to get back to work, now, though.”  
“Right. Me too.”  
They say their goodbyes, cheeks reddened by the cold or embarrassment or both, and go their separate ways.

Unfortunately, he has to tell Julia and Kady. He doesn’t have anyone else to watch the kids.  
“Oh, our little Q is all grown up! Going on dates with hot stalkers.”  
“Asking hot stalkers out all by himself.”  
He knew this would happen.  
“Shut up,” he whines. “Will you watch Fray and Teddy tonight or not?”  
“Oh definitely. Besides, you’ll need our help.”  
“Help with what?”  
“Q. Your regular attire is not first-date worthy.”  
He sighs and accepts their help.

“Not one word, Margo.”  
“Of course not! Why would I say anything about your rebound guy?”  
“Not a rebound guy.” Why does this feel so familiar?  
“Fine, your cute shy, apparently-not-that-straight guy.”  
“Just shut up and tell me which vest I should wear.”  
“Fen, your boyfriend just told me to shut up!” Margo calls.  
“Eliot, don’t tell Margo to shut up!”  
“Ted, Fen and Margo are ganging up on me!”  
Ted comes in chuckling. He's advanced beyond the crutches, just hobbling on the boot now. “I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done about it. They’re as thick as thieves these days.”  
Eliot sighs dramatically before holding up the vests again. “What do you think?”  
“All vests kind of look the same to me,” Ted admits.  
“I have obviously come to the wrong place.” Ted takes this moment to go back into the office.  
“You need a rebound guy. Get that pathetic, traitorous excuse of a cock out of your system.”  
“I don’t want to make him my rebound guy. He’s too.... wholesome.”  
“You won’t know til you try,” Fen pipes in.  
“Try not. Do or do not,” Ted calls out from the office. Eliot doesn’t quite blush, he’s not really the type. But there was something embarrassing about Ted having heard all that.  
Ted comes out of the office with a long, slender bid under one arm. “Yoda.”  
“Ted, are you having a stroke? Should we be calling your doctor?” Eliot asks so innocently. Of course, Ted's a nerd. He should've seen it coming. The model airplanes, for god sake.  
Ted rolls his eyes. “It’s a quote. From Star Wars.”  
“And now I’m getting advice from alien muppets. In Indiana. This is a new low for me.”  
“Eliot, the muppet isn’t in Indiana,” Fen says to make him feel better.  
“No, but I’m in Indiana, which automatically makes every situation utterly disastrous.”

Ted pulls Eliot aside before he leaves to tell him, “I think you should go for it, Eliot. You deserve better, especially after all Margo's told me about that Mike. He doesn't have to be a rebound guy, he just has to be your guy.”  
“'My guy'? Ted, how old are you?” Now he's got My Guy stuck in his head. Thanks Ted.  
“Eliot, don't deflect. Not now. This is important.”  
Eliot straightens.  
“If this matters to you, if he matters, don't let it go. But most important is to go out. You don't have to put any pressure on this date. Just enjoy yourself. Enjoy the moment.”  
“Right,” Eliot clears his throat. “Sure.”

Julia spends an entire half hour messing around with Quentin’s hair. He didn’t even know he had hair gel. Or mousse. Or whatever that spray that made him cough up a lung.  
In the end, she removes almost everything she put in (via comb, another spray, and wetting it in a very particular order) and lets it lay as it usually does.  
She does, however, force him into a pale blue button-up shirt under a navy blue sweater he’s pretty sure he hasn’t sworn since college.  
“I look like a college professor,” he complains.  
“Yeah, but a hot college professor.”  
“Do you know many hot college professors?”  
“A few.” She doesn't elaborate further. If he weren't so nervous, he'd tease her about being Hot For Teacher or something like that. But, well. He's a little distracted right now.

When they come downstairs, Kady and Teddy are playing checkers next to Fray doing her homework at the kitchen table. Kady looks up when she hears them coming down the stairs. She lets out a wolf-whistle. “Well, well. You clean up nice, Coldwater.” Why is he friends with these people. Why.  
“Thanks.”  
“I think you look nice, daddy,” Teddy pipes up.  
“What about you, Fray? How do you think your dad looks?” Julia asks.  
She finally looks up. She shrugs. “He looks okay I guess.”  
“High praise to be sure,” Kady says.  
“Okay. I guess I'm ready to go.”  
“You feel like throwing up,” Julia says. There’s no question in it.  
“Oh, I definitely feel like throwing up,” he admits.  
“Dad,” Fray interrupts then, looking back up from her homework. “Whatever you do, do not throw up on your date.”  
Quentin actually laughs at that. It's a little sad that she thinks her dad will throw up on his date, but at least she has advice for him. “I'll try not to. Make sure your brother is on his best behavior?” he asks, hoping that she'll understand that Kady and Julia are staying more for his peace of mind than anything to do with Fray not being grown up enough to be at home alone. “But make sure you finish your homework before you get to bed.”  
“Sure.” She mutters under her breath, “But it's two days before winter break, why do we have to do homework, anyways?”  
“And when you get back, you'll tell us all the dirty deets,” Julia teases Quentin.  
“Jules!” Quentin protests, blushing. Kady waggles her eyebrows while Julia laughs at him.  
“Ew. I'm going to do my homework in my room. Please, don't feel like you have to come tuck me in when you get home. Please.”  
Quentin laughs again. “Don't worry, I won't. You guys have fun with Julia and Kady.”

Eliot is waiting outside Betty's when he gets there. They're both ten minutes early. Neither of them mention it. Does this mean Eliot is just as nervous about their first date as he is?  
“Shall we?” Quentin offers an arm. Eliot raises an eyebrow at him.  
“Are you escorting me, then, sir?”  
Shit, was that too weird? He face warms and he straightens his arm and shoves his hands in his pockets.  
“No, no, no. If you're going to escort me, you're going to do it right.” Eliot places his hand in the crook of Quentin's arm. Quentin feels his blush fading in the cool air, but he feels himself warming at Eliot's touch, even through the sleeve of his coat.

They arrive at the restaurant with little fanfare. It feels awkward, at first, to meet somewhere that isn't Betty's, but they fall right back into familiar patterns. They even order coffee, 'for tradition.'  
They joke, they laugh.  
Eventually, Quentin stops laughing with Eliot and just stares at him.  
“What?” Eliot laughs, unable to stop.  
“The first time I saw you, you were smoking. You were surrounded by this cloud of smoke and cold breath.” Here Quentin blushes, though Eliot doesn’t know why. Thinking back, he’d received the call about Fen and Ted’s accident while smoking. “You were on the phone and you looked-,” Quentin pauses, looking for the right words. “You looked lost.”  
“So did you,” Eliot says. Once he starts, he can’t stop. “I saw you that day, too. At Betty’s. I was getting coffee for myself and Margo. You were on your phone, too. And hiding at a table in the corner. You looked so lost and overwhelmed. And I wanted to do something, to make it better, but instead I took the coffee and left.” Eliot had sworn to himself that he would never bring it up. He hadn’t even told Margo about the Hot Mess when he had brought her the coffee that day. He didn’t want Quentin to be embarrassed.  
“We could’ve stopped. We should’ve stopped.” Quentin gazes into his coffee. “Think of how much we could’ve done if we’d known each other.”  
“Think of all the coffee dates,” Eliot jokes. He can only speak about emotions, particularly his own, for so long before his skin crawls and he feels a need to lighten the mood. He’s allergic, you know.  
“What happened that day, to you? If you don’t mind telling me.”  
“It’s a long story. You see, my old boss always had it out to get me.” Quentin pauses to take a sip of water. Before he can continue, his phone vibrates.  
“Shit, I’m sorry. I know it’s not good to have your phone on during a date, but the kids.”  
“No, I get it. It could be an emergency.” I mean, he doesn’t get it completely. But he understands worrying about the people you lo-, the people you care about.  
Quentin answers the phone. His face goes white as he listens to the voice on the other side.  
“What is it?”  
“I need to go to the hospital.”  
Eliot doesn’t hesitate. “My car's closer, I’ll drive.”

Eliot doesn't speed, but it's close. He drops Quentin off at the entrance before going to find a parking place.  
A nurse takes Quentin to Teddy's room. It's just a sprained wrist and he bumped his head. Apparently, he'd been jumping his bed, pretending to fly. Kady and Julia are more worked up about it than Teddy.  
“I'm so sorry, Q.”  
“Julia, it's fine. We're just going to have to instigate some new rules at home, won't we, Teddy?” Quentin asks.  
He slowly nods his head.  
Quentin surreptitiously texts Eliot thanking him for the ride, but that he can go home if he wants. He'll be staying in the hospital with his son tonight. He also sends Kady and Julia home, though Fray insists on staying, too.  
He's pleasantly surprised when, not long after, Eliot appears at the door of Teddy's room holding a teddy bear and a balloon.  
“So I obviously couldn't just leave,” he whispers loudly.  
“Eliot, you didn't have to get him anything,” Quentin says softly.  
“No, these are obviously mine. For my teddy bear and balloon needs. Your son can just take care of them for me.”  
For all that they're speaking softly, their voices wake up Fray sleeping on the unoccupied hospital bed, though thankfully not Teddy.  
Fray yawns and rubs her eyes. “Heck? What are you doing here?”  
“You're Heck?”  
“These are your kids? What a funny coincidence,” Eliot laughs, softly so as to not wake up Teddy, too.  
“Yeah, that's crazy.”  
“Seriously, though. We can talk crazy tomorrow. I just didn't want to leave without even checking in.” Eliot side-eyes Fray, who is falling back asleep as they speak. “Do you want me to leave these, or-?” He holds up the balloon and bear.  
“No, I'll take them.” He carefully gets up off the bed, not wanting to jostle Teddy awake. But he shouldn't worry, the painkillers will help him sleep til morning.  
“Thank you, for doing this. And for giving me a ride here. I'm sorry our date got cut short.”  
“It's not a problem. I'm just sorry your son got hurt.”  
“Thanks for these, seriously. He's gonna love them.”  
“No problem. I better get going.” He turns to leave.  
“Wait,” Quentin places the teddy bear on the bed next to Teddy. A Teddy bear for Teddy. Ha. He just got it. “Thanks for caring. About Teddy, and for the ride.” He leans up and kisses Eliot on the cheek.  
“Why, Quentin, I do declare,” Eliot drawls like a southern belle. He touches where Quentin kissed him. “Just the cheek?”  
“Well, we haven't actually completed a first date. Maybe next time.”  
Eliot grins and leaves.

Ted is in the back seat of Margo and Eliot's rental car, watching her and Fen in amusement.  
They're flirting right in front of him and haven't even realized it. Oh, he's noticed them before now. Furtive glances when they think he's not looking, sneaking away alone into the office at Wilson's, he'd even faked a hacking cough to break them up when they started making-out in earnest on his couch.  
At this point, he's not sure if he'll tell Eliot about it outright or if he'll let him figure it out for himself, but he's amazed at just how oblivious the three of them are about it- Eliot for not noticing and Fen and Margo for. They aren't exactly subtle.  
They're taking him to the hospital to get the boot off and his leg assessed. If all goes well, he'll only be leaving the hospital with a cane.  
When they get to the hospital, he tells them to go get something in the cafeteria and sends them on their way.  
While he heads to the right waiting room, he hobbles past a room with an open door. Inside is a little boy with a cast on his right arm. He's all alone, though he has several balloons and a teddy bear wishing that he gets well soon.  
“Aren't a little young to be in the hospital by yourself?” Ted's a little out of breath and there's a chair just inside the door, so he takes a seat. Just for a moment, he tells himself.  
“My dad's filling out paperwork and my sister is on a quest to find me jello. Or chocolate pudding. Whichever she finds first.”  
“Do you mind if I sit here a moment? This thing takes a lot out of me.”  
“I guess.” The boy eyes the boot. “What happened?”  
“I was in a car accident and I hurt my knee. I'm actually at the hospital today to see how it's healing and to get the boot off. You?” He gestures at the cast. And the bandage on his forehead that he hadn't noticed before.  
“I jumped off the bed and sprained my wrist. And I hit my head.”  
“Ooh, that's not good. Didn't you ever hear about the monkeys jumping on the bed?”  
“That's just a silly song for little kids. Besides, I was jumping off the bed, not on it. I was trying to fly.”  
“What's your name?”  
“I'm Teddy, what's yours?”  
“Well, Teddy, I'm Ted.” Teddy gasps.  
“We've got the same name! Is your name short for Theodore, too?”  
“Indeed it is. Well, Teddy, from one Theodore to another, especially one who's in the hospital, same as you, I'd say you might want to give up the career flying. At least until you're a grownup.”  
Teddy sighs. “Yeah. That's probably a good idea. I'm lucky my dad didn't ground til I'm old and gray. He says he's just glad I'm okay.”  
Ted hears raised voices in the hall. He checks the time. “I'd better go or I'll be late to see my doctor. You take care of yourself, Teddy.”  
“I will, Ted. Bye.”  
“Buh-bye.”  
Ted hobbles down the hall, away from the voices. He wonders what that's all about, but he's gonna be late. He can't wait to get the damn thing off.

Quentin was just finishing up Teddy's discharge and insurance paperwork when he heard a voice behind him.  
“Oh, I knew something would happen,” the voice despairs. He wouldn't have turned around, because well, it's a hospital, he doesn't want to interfere with another family's issues, but he recognizes the voice.  
“Claire?” He'd texted her the night before, but he hadn't thought she would actually come down. She rarely drives down from Indianapolis. The last time was probably Fray's birthday in July.  
“Mr. Coldwater, do you know this woman?” a nurse asks.  
“Yeah, this is my kids' grandmother.”  
“Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to lower your voice. There are patients here who need their rest.”  
Claire nods but otherwise disregards the hospital staff.  
“Claire, you didn't have to come.”  
“Of course I did! I haven't seen you or the kids all month and you keep postponing our dinners. I've been worried.”  
“Of course I haven't been coming,” he hisses softly. “You called CPS!”  
She's shocked at that. “That was-. I was just-”  
“So you did call them.” He can't believe. He'd suspected all this time, and he may have said as such to Kady and Julia, but he'd never really believed it.  
“You weren't accepting my help! You needed to see how hard you've been living! I was just trying to get you and the children to move in with me.”  
“You were just trying to run my and the kids' lives, is what you mean.”  
“I needed you to understand that you could come to me for help! So you could get some help. So you wouldn't need-,``she cuts herself off before lowering her voice. “So you wouldn't need the drugs.”  
“Oh my god,” he says in disbelief at the sheer inanity of the situation. “I’m not a drug addict!” Out of all of the problems in his life, he’d never expected her to accuse him of drug addiction of all things.  
“I’ve seen you, popping pills! I never said anything because I hoped that you’d come to me about it.”  
“Any pills you might have seen me ‘popping’ are prescribed, to me. And I resent the implication that I would do anything to harm Fray or Teddy.”  
They've both raised their voices. He hopes that Teddy didn't hear any of that.  
“You need to understand that I am a grown man. These are my children before they are your grandchildren. Do you realize what you could've done? I was fired! If I hadn't have found a new job by the time CPS showed up, who knows what might have happened. Me and Ari so wanted you in our kids' lives. Do you get that? You're the only grandparent they have! But you screwed it up! No more dinners, I don't want you anywhere near my kids or my house. If we want you back in our lives, we'll let you know.”  
“Excuse me, ma'am, Mr. Coldwater, you either need to calm down and lower your voices or we're going to have to ask you to leave.” The nurse has returned, this time with a security officer.  
“I was just leaving. Here are my son's paperwork. Are we okay to leave?”  
“Yes, Mr. Coldwater.”  
He walks away. He doesn't look back at Claire. She doesn't call him back.  
Quentin doesn't tell Teddy or Fray everything that happened, but he tells them Grandma Claire made some bad choices that put them in danger and they weren't going to see her for a while. They're confused and sad, but are distracted with invitations to Julia and Kady's solstice party that upcoming Sunday.

After the disastrous ending of their first date, they decide to just continue their coffee dates at Betty's.

“I finally stood up to her! And I was right, she was the one who called CPS. But she didn't want custody, it was some misguided attempt to send me running to her for help.”  
“That is fucked up. Are you okay?” Eliot reaches out and puts his hand on top of Quentin's on his cup.  
“Yeah. I mean, that's family for you.” Quentin slides one of his hands so it's over one of Eliot's. “We'll be okay.”

Everything changes, again, during one of their clandestine coffee dates at Betty’s.  
“Well, well. Look who it is,” a voice says from behind them as they wait in line.  
“Penny! Hey!” Quentin fumbles with his wallet as he puts it back in his pocket to hug him. The stranger, Penny, allows it. Eliot notes that it’s an awkward back-patting bro hug rather than a dramatic embrace, but he can’t shake the feeling of jealousy and doubt creeping in. They haven't dated long, if you can call it dating. One almost date and so many coffee dates. And only one kiss, and that was on the cheek.  
“You’re looking better,” Penny tells Quentin when they step out of the bro hug.  
“Thanks. You too. Looking good, not better. I mean, you looked good before and you look good now.” Oh no. He thinks Penny is cute, doesn’t he?  
“Breathe, Coldwater,” Penny orders.  
“Hey, you’re not my boss. I don’t have to listen to you anymore,” Quentin jokes awkwardly.  
“Oh, look who grew a backbone!” They both laugh.  
Eliot clears his throat. He can only watch this for so long.  
“Shit, yeah, sorry. Penny, this is my, uh, this is Eliot.” That almost sounded like My Eliot. My Eliot. Eliot liked the sound of that, especially in front of this relatively unknown. “Eliot, this is Penny. We used to work together.”  
Eliot tries not to preen as Penny checks him out, looking him up and down, appraising him. Eliot stands straighter and looks him straight in the eye. If he’s an ex, which he doubts, then Eliot’s obviously infinitely superior and he wants this Penny to know it. If he’s a friend, which he’s hoping for from that introduction, well then Eliot wants to leave a good impression. He technically hasn’t met any of Quentin’s friends. And it’s not like Quentin has mentioned anything about his love life, besides his late wife, so it’s probably the latter.  
“'Work together’? Coldwater, I was your boss.”  
“Manager,” Quentin corrects. “Our boss is the one that fired me.”  
“Yeah, and it was shit,” Penny says. “Your replacement is shit, too. He’s a nice guy, but I’m pretty sure he’s high pretty much 24/7. I’m kind of glad he’s only working till after Christmas. But hey, at least he's chill. And he’s good company during dead shifts.”  
Eliot starts at that. That’s Hoberman, who works at Reynard’s. Where The Good Samaritan worked. “Wait, are you talking about Josh Hoberman? Blond, glasses?”  
“You know Hoberman? Wasn’t he your-?” Quentin cuts himself off before blushing. Eliot isn’t sure what that’s about, unless he knows about Hoberman’s previous moonlighting as a very chill drug dealer in high school.  
“Yeah, we went to high school together.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Sorry, when did you work at Reynard’s?”  
“I actually got fired the day we first saw each other. You know, the Bad Day? That’s why I thought the worst about you: you always seemed to be right there when something bad happened in my life.”  
Eliot can’t believe it. After all this time, after giving up on the search, he’s been handed the Good Samaritan.  
He kisses Quentin’s cheek, tells him, “There's something I have to do. I'll call you,”and rushes out to the sound of Penny asking “What was that about?”  
He has to tell Ted and Fen. And now that he considers everything he’s heard, he has something else to tell Ted.

The way Quentin had told him, the relationship between his parents was complicated. It was the telltale bump of Joanna's stomach that sent the two to the altar, not True Love. The way his mother told it in her diary, Quentin had been the result of a rather typical decision made between two close friends in college after one too many Jägermeisters. They’d gotten married, because that’s what you do, right? and had never considered that marriage would be the death knell of their friendship. They tried going out on dates together, after they were married, but neither of them ever really felt that way about each other. But what else was a married couple supposed to do? So they just keep trying and trying to fall in love with each other, and trying and trying to keep their young son from realizing anything was off with his parents’ relationship. It just never really worked.  
As a kid, Quentin had never realized why his parents had actually divorced. He always just assumed that it was like in movies and on tv- his dad must have been sleeping with his secretary or something equally heinous, because that’s what dads in movies. He never told his mom that, of course, so she never corrected him. It led him to seriously hate his dad until after his mom died and he found her diary.  
Finding his mother’s diary at the height of his grief for her death had lead him down a dark path. He’d become convinced that if he hadn’t been born his parents would both have been better off. If he hadn’t existed, his parents wouldn’t have gotten married, they probably would have still been friends. Maybe his mom would still be alive if she’d never had him in the first place.  
When Eliot told Quentin about rehab, Quentin told him about his hospitalizations. Those dark thoughts led to his first run-in with therapy at 15 and his grandparents got worried. His first involuntary hospital stay at 17 when he admitted that he didn’t want to exist anymore and his doctor convinced him to stay for a month. His first voluntary hospital stay at 19 a week before freshman orientation at college, and he had to assert his right to check himself out after just one weekend.  
Then he met Ari. And things changed for the better, for a time.  
But by that point Quentin was just too ashamed to try to contact his dad. Yes, his parents could have told him the truth about their relationship, but Quentin had let himself hate his dad for some imagined crime. He’d said hurtful things to him to run him off so he’d stop trying to get Quentin to spend time with him. He’d said he hated him and never wanted to see him again. What must Ted think of him? So he just never looked. He let shame keep him from finding his children’s only grandfather.  
Quentin said that he hadn’t told anyone about his dad before Eliot. And he only told him because Eliot was bemoaning the embarrassing scene with his mother and he wanted to show that he understood somewhat.

Ted and Fen are straightening up the storage room. It's mostly holiday decorations for the store, but there's some merchandise, too. They have to figure out what's what before they have to put the Christmas decorations away.  
Ted's task is to sort the New Years, Easter, and St Patrick's Day decorations. Any time he finds something that says 2018 or 2017, or so on, he carries it to the trash can by the counter. On one of these trips, Ted notices something in a glass box on the counter. He doesn't remember getting merchandise in glass boxes.  
He looks closer. And his heart stops. Inside the clear box is a locket, inscribed with a compass rose. Just like the one he'd last seen nearly 20 years ago.  
“Fen, Fen, come quick, please.”  
“What is it, Ted? What's wrong!” She comes running out of the storage room, leading to at least one crashing sound of a pile of decorations falling. But Ted doesn't care about that. Or at least, not right now.  
“Where did this come from?” Ted holds up the locket. How can it be here?  
“It was in my effects at the hospital. You remember, the coat? It was in the inner pocket. I only noticed the pocket because it got snagged on a doorknob. You must not have seen it. The clasp was on the locket was broken so I asked Margo to take it to get fixed. I brought it in to work in case someone sees it and recognizes it. I would have had Eliot take it around when he was looking for the Good Samaritan, but it wasn't fixed and I didn't want it to get lost again.”  
Ted can't help it. He starts sobbing.  
“Ted, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” She rushes to his side.  
“I gave this locket to my wife. My ex-wife, I mean.”  
Fen gasps. “I didn’t even know you were married.”  
“A long time ago. We were best friends who got into a poor situation and only saw on solution- marriage. We tried to make it work, for our son.” Oh, Quentin. Did he pawn the necklace? Or his grandparents? He can't think of any other way it could still be in Wilsonville, in a stranger's pocket.  
“You have a son?”  
“Quentin.” He wipes at his eyes. “I haven’t seen him in almost two decades. He resented me after the divorce and Joanna, she got custody. They never stayed in one place for long. I know they moved around for a while. Joanna would send me photos and birthday cards and I’d try to send something back, but I don’t know if he got everything I sent him. Sometimes he would send them back himself, or Joanna would. I think at one point they were even living in Hawaii, or maybe they were just on vacation, I don’t know. But the last thing I got from my son, he was a teenager. He sent me a copy of a story he'd sent to a magazine. The return address was in Wilsonville.”  
“But, the locket?”  
“I gave this to Joanna when we got married. I don’t understand how it could possibly be here.”  
“What’s inside?”  
“Well, I have the key right here.” Ted pulls at a string under his shirt to reveal a small golden key. He's about to put it in the locket when Eliot comes running in yelling about an announcement.

He speeds across the street to Wilson's. He's got to do this right. This will be his Christmas gift to Quentin, to Ted, to everyone.  
He bursts through the door of the office. “I have something to tell you.” The office is empty. He groans.  
He runs to the storage room. “I have something to tell you.” Fen and Ted are sitting around a box. Ted is unlocking a locket with a key on a string around his neck. The locket looks familiar.  
He shakes his head. “I have something very important to tell you. Both of you.” He collapses onto a chair and catches his breath.  
“Eliot, what is it?” Ted passes him a water bottle.  
He takes a drink. Ugh. Water. He needs something stronger. Wait, no. This is important. Important News!  
“Don't expect anything from me under your tree this year. Because this easily covers several years of Christmas gifts.”  
“Eliot,” Ted scolds. “You helping out is gift enough. But just tell us, what do you have to tell us?”  
“First, Ted, I have to ask. Is your son's name Quentin?” Fen gasps.  
Ted asks him solemnly, “How do you know that?”  
“Because this,” he pulls out his phone and show them a selfie he and Quentin had taken during one of their coffee dates for him to show his friends, Kady and Julia. “This is Quentin. Makepeace. Coldwater.”  
“That’s Quentin. Curly-Q,” Ted breathes. “How did you find him?”  
“Long story. Very long.”  
“Give us the cliff notes version,” Fen orders.  
Eliot takes a deep breath before telling them everything. Looking for the Good Samaritan, but failing at every turn. Meeting Quentin. Meeting Teddy and Fray. Quentin’s journal. Never making the connection until it was almost too late. Then he tells them his plan.

“Let me get this straight,” Margo starts. Sadly she had been picking up mail for Fen at her apartment and had missed the whole story. “Not only is your not-actually-straight boytoy the guy who you've been looking for this whole time, he's Ted's long-lost son.”  
He smiles and nods, taking a sip of water. “Best Christmas gift ever, wouldn't you agree? That's Ted, Fen, and Quentin's gifts covered. Quentin's kids, too, depending on how they receive the news that they're getting a grandfather.”  
“Damn, El. You are so lucky that the Good Samaritan just dropped into your fucking lap.”  
“Oh I know. But he hasn't been on my lap quite yet.”  
“What, do you plan on doing a Santa routine? 'Oh, Quentin, what gift do you want this year? Sit on Santa's lap and tell him.'”  
“No, of course not. That's too cliché. And besides, I don't want to tell him about his father during sexy times.” He takes another drink. “I plan on inviting him to a romantic evening at Betty's, where Ted, and Fen, will be waiting for him.”  
“So you're going full Hallmark.”  
“Which makes me the Hallmark love interest and so my plan is guaranteed. A merry Christmas for all.”  
“And to all a good night?”  
“Shut up.” So he's getting into the Christmas spirit. So sue him.

He refuses to make the call with everyone in the room, but he promises to record it for Ted. He can't do this with an audience.  
The line rings. The few seconds wait as it rings again and again is agonizing.  
Finally, there's the click. “It's Eliot.”  
“Eliot! You kind of disappeared on me there. Is everything okay?”  
“I’m sorry for leaving like that. I just realized something important and I had to go see a friend. I'm sorry if it offended your friend.”  
“Penny was more confused than offended. Was it your friend, Fen? Is she okay?”  
“Fen’s fine. It was another friend. He was in the hospital earlier this month and he’s going through some stuff, but it’s alright now.”  
He clears his throat. “Actually, I was wondering if we could see each other tomorrow after you get off work? At Betty’s?”  
“Yeah, sure, but Betty's is closed when I got off work.”  
“Don’t worry. Betty loves me.” She's a sucker for romance. And she'll do most anything if Fen asks. But Betty's was just a red herring.  
“Then I’ll be there.”  
“With bells on?” Eliot teases, not revealing just how nervous he is. It’s all going according to plan so far. Not that the plan is particularly complex: get Quentin to Betty’s tomorrow night for a special surprise.  
Quentin laughs. “Good night, Eliot. I’ll see you at Betty’s.”  
“See you there.”

“You nervous?” He asks Ted. They're all just waiting now, killing time until Eliot goes over and waits outside Betty's for Quentin.  
“You have no idea.” Eliot pats him on the back.  
“Don't worry.”  
“I can't believe I saw my son and never realized. What if he recognized me and didn't want to see me?”  
“Ted, you were concussed. And Quentin was probably working on and was too busy to really look at you.”  
“Not to mention the blood on your face,” Eliot adds helpfully.  
Margo tells him, “Please, no more talk about the blood. We don't talk about the blood. The thought of it still makes me wanna puke.”  
The timer on Fen's phone goes off. “Eliot, you're on.”  
“Right. I'm off, then.” He pats Ted on the shoulder one more time. “He matters.”  
He takes a deep breath and claps his hands. “Let's get this show on the road!”

He crosses over to Betty's. Quentin isn't here yet. Good. Any time now.  
“Eliot!”  
Eliot paused. Wait. Wait. And turn.  
“Quentin Coldwater. Are you prepared for a night you'll never forget?”  
“.. Yes? Yes.”  
Eliot then leads Quentin across the street to Wilson's.  
“Wait, I thought we were doing Betty's?”  
“We are, I just have to get something from Wilson's. It is integral to the success of tonight, I assure you.”  
He unlocks the door. The store is pitch-black. Eliot keeps his  
“Okay, what do you need? What are we looking for?” He can hear Quentin in the dark.  
“It should be just inside. Why don't you take a look?”  
“But what is it?”  
“Trust me, you'll know it when you see it.”  
“I can't see anything.”  
“This should help,” Eliot says. He flips the switch.  
The store lights up with Christmas lights around them. Specifically, around Ted.  
“Hey, Curly-Q.”  
“I don’t-, you’re-. How?” Quentin falters. All he can say is, “Dad.” There are tears in his eyes. Both of their eyes.  
They both seem to realize at the same time that there’s nothing keeping them apart. Father and son cross the distance between them and wrap their arms around each other.  
Looking over his son’s shoulder, Ted’s eyes meet Eliot’s and he mouths thank you thank you

They all sat around awkwardly, but happily, in Ted's living room, waiting for Julia to drop off Fray and Teddy.  
Eliot felt most awkward, like he was intruding on a family moment. But when he'd tried to leave, Ted had placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and led him and sat him down on the couch next to Quentin, where Fen promptly pushed mugs of hot chocolate into their hands.  
Quentin's hands are shaking around his mug. Eliot gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Quentin has no reason to be so nervous. Sure, he's introducing his kids to their grandfather for literally the first time ever. And he's sitting in his dad's house for the first time ever. And his new boyfriend (?!?) is sitting in on the moment. So, no pressure.  
See, this is why Eliot didn't want to be here for this. This was a family moment. What on earth was he doing here?  
Just when he's resolved himself to hightail it out of there as discreetly as possible, there's a knock at the door and Fen is letting them all in. Fen smiles and takes a seat next to Eliot when Quentin rises to greet his kids. Julia and Kady vanish into the kitchen to give them a semblance of privacy. There's a TV in there and their excuse is that they can watch tv while they wait, but he hasn't heard a single sound that can be attributed to a tv. He knows they're drinking Ted's beer and listening in. Why isn't he in there? He could always come out at the opportune moment with the others. He can understand Fen staying, she's been in Ted's life for literal years, not Eliot.  
But-  
Ted had asked Eliot to be there. Had told him, “I want my family to be together at Christmas. And I consider you my family.”  
Eliot had spluttered at that, of course. It's a bold statement to make of someone you'd only met a month ago because you were in a car wreck. How could Ted say that about him, of all people?  
“You've known me for a month! And it hasn't even been a full month yet!”  
“And your parents knew you for eighteen years. I don't know how they missed it, but you're a good person. You took care of my store, you helped me and Fen when you didn't have to. Most importantly, you brought my son back to me. You're a good son. They just couldn't see it.”  
Eliot had tried to wave it off and changed the subject, saying he'd just mind the store that day, though his eyes were suspiciously shiny. And when Quentin showed up at Ted's house, Eliot was right there with me.  
"Hey, Heck," Fray says when she sees Eliot. She grins as she says it. He can hear Fen and Margo start to cackle in the kitchen. Damn it. Fen must have told Margo. When had they gotten so close? They were never going to let him hear the end of it.  
"Hi, Eliot!"  
"Fray, Teddy. Always a pleasure."  
“Did you find the place okay?”  
"Hey, Dad, where are we? Who are these people?" Teddy whispers loudly, apparently no longer as accepting of adults trading pleasantries.  
"Fray, Teddy, I have someone for you to meet." He gestures Ted to come closer.  
"Who's he?" Fray asks.  
"I know him!" Teddy exclaims, proud to know something that even his big sister doesn't.  
Everyone turns to him in shock. All except for Ted, who just smiles at Teddy.  
"You do?" Quentin asks dumbly, unable to express anything else in his surprise.  
"Yeah, we have the same name! Hi, Ted!"  
"Hello again, Teddy." Ted laughs. "Oh, yes, me and Teddy are old friends."  
"He was at the hospital when I got my cast. He was there to get a cast off."  
"Well," Quentin starts slowly. "I know something about Ted that you don't. Something I didn't even know until very, very recently."  
"What about him? Who is he?" Fray asks again.  
"Do you remember how I told you about your Grandma Joanna? How we lived in Wilsonville when I was little?"  
Teddy hums. "Grandma died and you went to live with your grandparents. Our great-grandparents," Teddy tells the room at large.  
"I never told you about my dad, your grandpa, because when my parents divorced, it made me sad and mad, and I got sad and mad at my dad. When Grandma Joanna died and I moved away from Wilsonville, my dad tried really hard to find me but he couldn't. So he moved here to Wilsonville, where Grandma Joanna is buried, hoping that I'd come back someday."  
"And he did come back, and it took some time, and some help," He smiles and nods at Eliot, who sips quietly at his hot chocolate. "But I found him."  
The room quiets down, letting the kids process what Quentin and Ted were telling them. Fray gets it first, understanding in her eyes. Then Teddy gets it too.  
"You're our grandpa," Fray states slowly. Ted nods, but doesn't say anything.  
"Can I hug you?" Teddy asks him. Really, such a cute kid.  
"You sure can."  
Teddy walks slowly toward Ted, and wraps his little arms around his middle. Ted kneels down down and hugs him back. Without letting go of Ted, Teddy raises his head and looks back at Fray. Neither of them say anything, but something in Teddy's face must tell her something.  
She steps toward them and gets pulled into the hug.

They all bundle up and head to Julia and Kady's apartment, where they meet with Josh Hoberman, Penny, and Todd, of all people. “We invited pretty everyone that you guys are familiar with. It is Yule, after all,” Julia told them.  
“But. How did you find him?” Fray asks Ted.  
“I didn't. Eliot did,” he tells them.  
“How'd you do it, Heck?” Teddy asks.  
“Well, it's a long story. And it starts the day your dad got fired from Reynard's.”  
Eliot is in the middle of telling the story of how he so very heroically traversed the town of Wilsonville in search of The Good Samaritan (and his children) who helped his friends in a car accident when there's a knock at the door.

“I'll get it,” Quentin says, standing up. He makes eye contact with his father, who nods encouragingly at him.  
“Who else is coming?” Quentin hears Eliot ask. “Are we missing anybody?” Ted shushes him.  
“Quentin's got it.”  
Quentin takes a deep breath and opens the door. He still isn't sure if this was a good idea, but here goes.

“Hello, Claire. Merry Christmas.”  
She nods at him. “Quentin. Merry Christmas,” she's obviously nervous, won't meet his eyes, hands gripped tight on her purse. Or maybe she thinks someone will snatch it. Quentin sighs inwardly. He said he'd give her a chance, keep an open mind. Not so open that she walks all over him, but enough to accept her presence around the kids.  
It had been his dad's idea, when Quentin told him everything that had happened this Christmas. Ted thought that even if the kids had a grandfather, they could still use a grandmother. Especially one that they knew and loved, even if she had made some very poor choices.  
“Please, come join us,” his is more monotone than welcoming. “Eliot is telling the kids a story.”  
“Thank you.” She steps lightly around him, obviously aware of her shaky position.  
This morning, Quentin and his father had called Claire and invited her to the party, with Julia's blessing of course.  
Quentin had told her, “I'm not going to lie, if my dad hadn't suggested it, I wouldn't be offering.” He took a deep breath. “But I still want the kids to have a grandmother, and they love you. So I want you to come. But you need to understand that I'll probably never let you get in the position to be able to do what you did to us again.”  
She had cried then. Before she straightened herself up and told him solemnly, “I understand. Thank you for inviting me, Quentin. And thank you for giving me this chance. I won't waste it.”  
Ted had spoken up then. “Being a grandparent, being part of your grandchildren's lives, is a gift. I'm looking forward to enjoying this gift with you.”  
When the kids see her, there are twin cries of, “Grandma!” and a rush to hug her.  
She kneels down and receives the hugs readily. “Freya, Theodore! It's so good to see you! I have missed you both so much.”  
It's hard for Quentin, looking on, but he would never begrudge them this. Christmas, or in this case Yule, is nothing without the ones you love. Looking around the room, he realizes just how much love he has in his life. There are gaps, missing people. Ari. His mom. Eliot's family who have so little love to give.  
Quentin joins Eliot on the floor and snuggles into his side as Eliot places an arm around him.  
But still so much love. And so much potential for love.  
It's a good feeling.

For life was made for loving, and love alone repays,  
As passing years are proving, for all of Time's sad ways.  
There lies a sting in pleasure,  
And fame gives shallow measure,  
And wealth is but a phantom that mocks the restless days,  
For life was made for loving, and only loving pays  
– “Christmas Fancies,” Ella Wheeler Wilcox

**Author's Note:**

> Betty, Betty's Bakery, and Wilson's are all products of the movie and/or book.  
> Eagle eyed viewers will notice some familiar lines of dialogue, taken and rephrased from the movie.
> 
> Wilsonville is in Indiana in this fic, filmed in Canada in the movie, and I don't know where it's set in the book. But the fic's interpretation is based on my experiences in my hometown in Nebraska. And some of Quentin's troubles are based directly on my mother's experiences.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for the Holiday Fic "half-forgotten faces and friends we used to know"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006090) by [Doomkitty25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doomkitty25/pseuds/Doomkitty25)




End file.
